


Two Nightingales

by Carinalove67



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, russian spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 85,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carinalove67/pseuds/Carinalove67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and John were sent to England as a married couple, working for the KGB. Living false lives and having to adapt, they struggle to understand each other. Will they ever find love in the life they have been chosen to live? Whoufflé AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get What You Give

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the TV show, The Americans. It will involve certain things from that in some storylines, but only a few things. You really don't need to know about the show to get this.
> 
> It's based in the 1980s, during the cold war. It's based in England, in contrast to the TV show
> 
> I am currently in the process of removing things from my fanfiction account, but I am reposting my favourite few stories here.

She walked into the small apartment and turned on the lights. It was a reasonable size, more than she was used to. She dropped her tiny suitcase by the couch and stood extremely still. John followed her in and did the same, standing a respectable distance apart.

All that could be heard in the room was their small breaths. They had no idea what they should say to each other or do next. She was the first to look up, biting her lip nervously. He felt her gaze on him and did the same.

After a few moments of an awkward stare, She looked away and picked up her suitcase again. She slowly walked towards the bed in the small adjoined room and placed the case on the bed. She closed her eyes for a few moments to clear her head. Upon hearing his footsteps, she swiftly moved to the side of the bed to give him space.

He placed his case next to hers and stared up at her. They were drowning in the surrounding silence, unsure of how to proceed.

* * *

 

_He walked into the main office. This was the day he would receive his assignment. He had been training since he was twenty years old for his country. After months of extensive training, learning everything about the normal way to live in England, he was going to be place. He had been taught everything from the casual way of talking to how you drive your car._

_He sat down in the main office at the KGB headquarters and waited patiently. After ninety-six seconds, which he counted, a small girl walked in and sat down in the chair next to him. They exchanged glances before waiting for the third person._

_They both stood as their commanding officer entered the room. "Ah!" He said boldly. "Have you two yet been introduced?" He asked. It was clear English was not his first language, but the sudden change had shocked them both slightly and they had to adjust their heads._

_The girl shook her head as did the man._

_"Well then, John this is Clara, Clara this is John." They turned to each other and nodded their greetings._

_Their commander tutted. "You have been married for six weeks. You will live in a small place called Leadworth, not far from the outskirts of London." He handed them both a folder. "This is everything you will need to know about your life. From now on you will only speak in English. You will not speak of any life you had before this day."_

_John opened the folder. "John Smith." It read at the top. He peaked over to Clara's who read, "Clara Smith, formerly Oswald."_

_He was to become a boy who's parents died in a car accident when he was nineteen. He was born in London and would work as a scientist. The company he was going to work for was being run by the Soviets secretly, who knew about this operation._

_Clara was to become a stay-at-home wife until she found a job that was suitable. That was the normal thing to do, although she couldn't say she was happy about it. She was to have been born in Blackpool. Her parents would still live there._

_This was her new life and she'd have to learn it inside out as if it were real. Once she'd been excused from the room, she turned to John who smiled slightly towards her. They would spend at least a few years as husband and wife now. They would be expected to have children and to blend in with society. Clara didn't want to know this man, but she would do it for the Motherland._

* * *

 

Clara removed her jacket and folded it up neatly on the floor. She was wearing a simple frock underneath, leaving her a little cold. She shivered from the sudden chill but also because John had wrapped his arm around her back and used his other hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She inhaled sharply and looked away, purposefully coughing. "Um, we need to unpack." She murmured. It was the first full sentence they'd spoken since they'd met.

"Yeah, of course. It's just..." He paused and itched his eye. "You know, we're meant to be newlyweds. I just thought that..."

"Not yet." She said sharply. "It's not as if anyone would know anyway."

She was tough, he could tell that. She obviously hated the idea of being weaker than men and refused to let him take control.

"Well, we're going to have to have kids someday. Can't leave it forever." He muttered under his breath.

"Well, tonight it isn't essential, is it?" She spat.

"No need to be arrogant, I was simply saying..."

"What? That I'm your toy? That I do what you say?" She edged further with each word her first clenched and ready to pound. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it in front of their faces.

"That we need to act more like a couple." He snarled. "And try to like each other. I'm prepared to do that, unless you try and attack me again. And keep it down, we have neighbours, remember?"

She pulled her arm out his grip and went back to her suitcase. "Sorry." She murmured quietly, just enough so he would hear it.

"It's fine." He replied, pulling his pyjamas out of his case. He had one pair of casual clothes and two suits for work. That would do until his salary allowed him to buy more. They would have to save up for a bigger house too eventually.

Clara did the same and then turned away, allowing him to get changed. He coughed to inform her that he was done and she could get changed too. She undressed quickly and put on her nightclothes. She made sure she was tucked up into one side of the bed before she let him know it was okay to turn around. She didn't want him getting any wrong ideas.

* * *

 

Clara struggled at first to adjust to the normal way of life in England. Everyone was just so different and happy all the time. She didn't have to work, but she couldn't say she liked that. She'd been hand picked at seventeen to be a part of this assignment. She'd thought that two years in intensive coaching would make her ready, but she doubt anything they'd ever done would have made her ready enough.

She didn't even know her "husband's" age. Did he even know she was only nineteen years old? She'd always deemed that too young to be married. She was grateful her Mother would never find out about it. It would have made her furious, even if it as for her country.

She avoided him at all moments possible, only conversing with him over dinner or in public when she acted like a good housewife. She'd already had to kiss him in front of the neighbours after they made a remark about young love and how close it brought people together. That's when she'd noticed the gaping distant between herself and her "beloved."

She'd played the dutiful wife, as she was mean to, but she couldn't bring herself to like John. She knew it wasn't his fault. He'd been trying to be affectionate towards her, become friendly with her but she had rejected all of his advances.

He wasn't too keen on spending the rest of his life with a woman who barely spoke to him. In his eyes, she was far too young. She looked too innocent, even though the KGB would never dare send an under-seventeen into a mission like this. She was so short, it didn't help how young she would look at times. He'd given up a lot for this mission and he needed her to co-operate.

Even after their first assignment was over, she didn't trust him like she needed to. They'd been ordered to sneak a Soviet diplomat out of England and onto a waiting helicopter, where he would be taken to a boat which would go back to Moscow.

As Clara watched the helicopter leave, she had a moment of longing to join the man so she could go home. She knew there was nothing left for her back there, but sometimes she'd like to think there was.

They'd been in England for just over two months and John eventually decided he'd had enough of the silent treatment. He waited until she was curled up on the sofa reading before he joined her. Every night, she sat in the same spot by the fire and read a book. They were usually classics like Pride and Prejudice and Charles Dickens. He'd never been too keen on them and couldn't understand where her passion for them came from.

The language was a little too complicated for him too. He could read English perfectly well, but he struggled to find the beauty in the words when he was still not fully accustomed to doing everything in English. She clearly hadn't been affected by that.

When she saw him sit beside her, she closed her book and moved her legs to sit up. He quickly grabbed her arm, causing her to flinch. He was holding her gently, in a comforting manner.

"We need to talk." He said. She nodded and moved back to her previous position hesitantly.

"Yes? What is it?" She replied, looking at the floor.

"Nothing in particular. I just want to talk to you." He took one of her hands in his and warmed it between his palms. She flashed a small smile in his direction.

"So...what do you want to talk about?" She murmured.

"Ourselves. Little things." She furrowed her brow. He lifted up his free arm for expression. "Like, your favourite colour, favourite food, hobbies, childhood dreams, current dreams, anything."

She giggled a little at his flailing hand. He seemed to not be able to keep his limbs under control very well.

"Um, I don't know. I guess...my favourite colour is red." She whispered, waiting to check that this was a good answer.

"I like red. Like dark red or...?"

"Scarlett red. Like the intense kind. That or purple."

He smiled at her answer. It was probably the most normal conversation they'd had to date. "Mine's blue. A really deep blue."

She nodded in acceptance. "Um, I've always wanted to see the world. This is kind of my chance I guess."

John looked down to his feet momentarily. "I wanted to travel too. But, this was the only way to leave Russia."

They both desperately tried to think of something other than the topic of Russia. They didn't want to bring up things that they shouldn't.

"I hate pears." John suddenly said out of the blue. The spontaneity of the statement caused Clara to start laughing and her shoulders shook with each sound.

John began to laugh too, observing how delicate her laugh was. It wasn't childish, but it wasn't old fashioned. It was a natural sound, like music to his ears.

"Well, I happen to love pears." She smiled. He made a face at this and she giggled once more.

They stared at each other once more as silence hit them whilst they thought of things that other should know. "I'm twenty-one years old." John finally murmured, knowing that this needed to be said.

"Nineteen." Clara replied twisting a ring on her finger. He would have questioned her about it, had he not been so taken aback by her age.

"Nineteen?" He gasped. "You're..."

"Don't look so shocked." She retorted to his reaction. "I'm not a child."

"I don't doubt you are. I just thought you would be in your twenties."

At least he was honest, she thought. "Surprise." She whispered, before pulling her legs off the sofa and hugging her book to her chest. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

She walked towards the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. John looked over to the door with a sudden pang of guilt filling his chest.

He waited a minute before making his way over to the room and knocking on the door twice. "Erm, one second!" She shouted from inside.

He patiently stood, turning off the lights to the rest of the apartment which happened to be beside him. When the door opened, Clara was already in her nightclothes and climbing into the bed.

"Clara?" He asked soothingly, waiting by the wardrobe which was next to the door.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, for being so...blunt with you, for lack of better words." He said apologetically.

"John, if this is about what you said about being married I..."

"I understand why you don't want that yet and that's fine with me..."

"John, it doesn't bother me." She said in an increased volume. "I'm perfectly capable of fulfilling that duty. I just want to know you better first, you know?"

John nodded at her explanation, although it wouldn't explain why she had pretty much ignored him for their time together.

"Okay, I understand." He replied courteously. He waited until she was facing away to change into his pyjamas and slip into bed.

Usually he would turn in the opposite direction of her, careful to maintain a boundary. He waited until she was asleep before he turned to her.

She would always catch him examining her during the day, so he had to do it at night. She was actually extremely pretty. Her long eyelashes rested peacefully as she dreamt. He studied the way her nose went slightly up towards the end, which he found adorable. He watched as her slightly-parted lips took in a lungful of air before exhaling. He watched as her small chest fell and rose, counting each second in his head. He loved how her hair was fanned out beneath her, tickling his arm slightly in the small bed. He ran his fingers through the tresses gently, admiring it's smoothness.

After realising he'd been studying her for far too long, he turned away and made sure he slept.

He was unsure about their relationship. This would go on for years and years, and even after that day it didn't seem to improve too much. He hoped that they would be given new assignments soon enough.


	2. Good for the Soul

Clara was vacuuming the carpets as John walked in the room. She'd spent the last five months doing this and she was thoroughly bored. She looked up to him. "How was work?" She asked politely.

"Same as ever." He replied bluntly, throwing his coat over the back of the sofa. Clara took a steady breath so she didn't get angry before standing up and hanging the coat up on the coat peg. She swore he always forgot that she wasn't just his personal slave.

"We have an assignment tonight." He told her from the kitchen as he spread some jam onto two slices of bread.

"What is it?" She replied, clenching and unclenching her fist so she wouldn't snap at him for eating too much either. She often forgot that they didn't need to worry about rations anymore. Little things that he did would often aggravate her and it truly made her want to punch him.

She mentally cursed herself for getting a temper so easily. Back in Moscow she would be able to go to the training gym and take it out on the punch bag. She hadn't used a punch bag too often before she came to England in simple fear of the gym, so she took it out on her pillow from then on instead.

"There's two ex-soviets who came here ten years ago. Two days ago they identified two sleeper agents and told the authorities. They need to be taken care of before the do it again."

Clara nodded in acceptance. "So, we take them to the KGB or...?"

"We get them out of the picture in any way possible. If we can, take them to headquarters but if we can't we simply take action."

"If we can't?"

"If they put up a fight, which they undoubtedly will. Be ready by nine."

"Ok." She said and went to her bedroom to get a rest. She barely slept at night anymore. She just couldn't force herself into unconsciousness and as appealing as sleeping pills sounded, she wasn't too well acquainted with British money as of yet and wanted to make sure she knew it perfectly before going to the chemist.

She'd been taught all about it back in Moscow, it was simply knowing how much to give and the small delay that would look suspicious. Clara barely went out. She would take a tube every so often to the centre of London and stroll in the parks to clear her head.

She heard a couple speaking Russian there the other day and wanted so desperately to go up to them. They would probably report her there. They wouldn't be soviets and must have gone to England before the USSR. She knew she missed home a little too much.

It was actually one thought that made her miss home the most. The idea that she would not be able to visit her Mother's gravestone when she felt lost made her sick to her stomach. She'd always been able to find her Mother when things became too overwhelming, but she wasn't there anymore. She couldn't even say anything to John about it because he wasn't allowed to know.

For all of his knowledge, her parents were both alive and the only ones she could speak about to anyone lived in a place called Blackpool. The world suddenly felt so big when she thought about home and how far away from it she was.

Now she was in England, the reality of the assignment hit her and she knew that it was never going to end. The only way they would ever get back to Russia would be if the war ended and then they would be found out by the English authorities and most likely arrested. The only way they could go home would be in a body-bag or in a prison cell and that's if they even sent them home after that.

* * *

 

Clara woke to John shaking her. "Clara, it's eighty-thirty." He murmured. She glanced over to the clock on the bedside and groaned. He was right. She groaned as he left the room to herself.

She lazily moved her body out from under the covers and walked over to her wardrobe. She pulled out some leggings and a loose shirt which she could move in. They were not the most practical wear to blend in entirely, but they would have to do.

She got changed and walked into the kitchen to find John had cooked dinner. "lasagne?" He asked politely, holding up a plate with the meal on.

She looked at it and then back to John a few times before she fully understood. "You cooked?" She asked in disbelief. "You never cook."

"Well, I figured that since I actually know how and you obviously don't, I should make the dinner." She smiled at him, ignoring the small dig he made at her awful cooking.

"Thank you." She said sweetly. She didn't think she'd actually ever said that to him before.

"Your welcome." He smiled, handing her the plate with a knife and fork as they carried their dishes through to the small dining table and sat down to eat.

They ate in silence, Clara rather enjoying her meal for once. She shot him another small smile of gratitude which he returned politely.

Once the clock struck nine, John and Clara left the flat carefully. They were extremely lucky to own the bottom flat so they didn't disturb anyone on the way out and in. It also meant that went unnoticed most of the time.

They got into the new car which John had bought two weeks prior and set off to their destination. They had to kidnap this man on his way home from a massive reception at some restaurant.

It was going to be risky and they had to ensure they didn't attract too much attention themselves. He would know they were Russians the moment they tried to abduct him and he would do everything in his power to stop them.

John parked two streets away from the restaurant. This was the route the man would have to take home. They would quickly grab him and get him into their car. From there they were to drive to an alleyway nearby.

They waited half an hour before he finally emerged. Clara got out of the car and leant against the fence on the pavement.

As he neared, she begun to mess with her purse. Just as he was about to pass, she dropped in and made a noise of surprise.

"Oh, Ma'am, let me get that for you." He bent down to pick up the purse and John came up behind him, covering his head with a clothed bag. They both wrestled him into the car, holding down his hands as he struggled. They managed to drive away unseen, Clara holding him down in the backseat.

His thrashes kept causing John to swerve and Clara shouted at him each time. "For God's sake, just find somewhere!"

"Just a minute!" John shouted in return.

He finally parked up in a dark back alley with only one way out. They were far enough down so that no-one would see them.

John hastily stopped the car and opened the back door, dragging the man out. He pulled the bag off his head and pushed him against the wall as Clara climbed out.

"Now, we can make a deal. You either come with us where you'll be sent back to Russia to pay your price, or we can deal with this another way." John threatened.

The man waited a few moments before kneeing John in the gut and elbowing the back of his head. Clara forgot he'd been KGB trained too.

She ran up to him and threw her punches in whilst receiving just as many. She pushed him back against the wall before he grabbed her and swapped the positions.

With each blow, each side became considerably weaker. Just as Clara thought he'd been beaten, he pinned her against the wall in a choke hold. She struggled against him, unable to move.

His body was thrown away from her when John pulled him off her and punched him in the head. Clara struggled to regain her breath and her sight was slightly blurry. She could vaguely make out John stumbling in the background. The man had been tougher than they'd reckoned.

The moment his back was turned, Clara came up behind him and pulled him off John with her arm around his neck. She pushed him down onto the floor and pulled his hands behind his back, sitting on him to hold him down. She then grabbed his head and quickly twisted it to the side, severing his spinal chord. She heard the crack before his body went lifeless.

John walked over to her and pulled her off the man. "You okay?" He asked Clara, pulling the hair from her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He only got in a few punches." She replied, walking to the legs of the body. "You get the top." She told him as she pulled the lower half of his body into her arms.

John picked up his torso and they carried his lifeless shell to the boot of their car, before cramming him in. they drove to a small place by the Thames and pulled the body out of the car.

After wiping the body clean from fingerprints and burning all of his clothes, they threw his body in the water for the British to find the next day. This was a message to them.

* * *

 

The drive home was silent, John's knuckles white on the steering wheel. When they finally arrived back at the apartment, Clara walked in slowly.

She could see John's face better in the light and his black eye was starting to get worse. "Oh my God." She tutted as she ran to the bathroom to find make up.

She also got a hot flannel and made him dap at it in case there were any cuts within the bruising. "We can cover the bruise, but the swelling will show." She told him. "If anyone asks, you walked into the cupboard."

"Why do I have to have walked into a cupboard?" He complained. "Can't I have saved your life as you walked in front of a car or something cool like that? They'll laugh if I say I walked into a cupboard."

"No, you can't say that. If they laugh, then they laugh. No big deal. I'm sure you can endure a few baby teases for a day John." She took the flannel from him and used it to dap at his cut lip. He winced and she rolled her eyes.

Once she was done, she put the things away and sat down on the sofa. "Clara, do you have any bruises?" He asked quietly.

"None that need taken care of. They're not on my face so they can be hidden." She said simply. They had been taught how to hide things like this well, but that wasn't what he'd meant.

"I mean, do they hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She said simply. She stared at the wall for a moment, waiting for John to do something. He stood still for a minute before announcing he was going to sleep.

"John?" Clara suddenly piped up.

"Yeah?" He turned around in confusion to face her.

"I've been thinking and...Fridays." She said definitively.

"What?" John asked, unsure of what she meant.

"You said we needed to act like a married couple. So...Fridays. That's when you're allowed to do what you want." She murmured.

She'd been considering it for a long time. It wasn't something she'd be able to put off forever, even though she'd prayed she would be able to.

"Oh, okay." John said to himself. "Today is Friday." He stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I know." She whispered.

"Oh." He said in realisation. "Oh, so do you want to...?"

"I don't mind."

John thought it over to himself. "I'm just going to go to bed and think it through." He muttered some time later.

His hesitancy came from the fact that she still hadn't removed her gaze from the wall, even during their conversation. He went to bed and stripped down to his boxers and shirt. When Clara came in a small time later, she got changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed.

"Clara?" He asked softly.

"Yes?" She whispered.

"Was today the first time you killed someone?" He tried to be gentle, unsure how she'd take it.

There was a silence before a quiet "yes." John nodded to himself before turning his head to her.

"Are you okay? I mean, did it affect you in some way?"

"No. I was fine with it." Clara meant what she said, but John could tell that she was feeling like she shouldn't.

"Was it yours?" She counter-asked.

"No. I had one or two missions back in Moscow."

"Oh." She spoke softly.

He turned his body fully to her and gently stroked some hair out of her face. She knew that this was his answer to her earlier to statement. She'd only decided on allowing him this because she wanted to zone out.

She knew that if he made advances, she would be able to numb her mind and not think about anything, and that was what she did.

* * *

 

Later that night, John was still awake. He'd thought he would do it, just to get it out of the way and so that he didn't seem like he was suddenly being childish about it. He'd also decided that he wouldn't do it again any time soon. He'd thought it was comfort her somehow, but it didn't. He knew that she had been zoning herself out the entire time. It made him feel awful, and he didn't want her to feel that way. It had definitely not brought them any closer, it might have even shoved a wedge between them.

Either way, it kept him up all night thinking about it.


	3. As Long As We Try

 

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I've been asked to become the nanny for two kids on floor three. They're thirteen and nine. Boy and girl, very nice apparently."

John pursed his lips and nodded. "Sounds good. Do you like children?"

She looked down at her food. "I love children." She murmured. "I used to babysit when I was in..." She stopped mid-sentence upon realising her slip up. "Sorry."

"It's okay. It happens." He smiled appreciatively at her and carried on eating. That seemed to be the end of the conversation. It was always like that in their household. They would say a few words before becoming silent. Mind, it had always been like that since the very start.

* * *

 

Clara knocked on the door and waited patiently. "Ah, Mrs Smith!" Mr Maitland greeted as he opened the door.

"Call me Clara." She replied, holding her hand out for his to shake. He took it enthusiastically before stepping aside and allowing her to enter his flat.

"Kids!" He shouted down the hall. She heard two sounds of heavy footsteps as the children walked up to her and stood, smiling.

"Hi, I'm Clara." She smiled, holding her hand out for each of them.

"Artie." The boy said, shaking it quickly. She laughed and then turned to the girl.

"Angie." She said, refusing to take her hand. She figured that this was going to be a hard relationship with the girl. She'd been told by their father that their Mother died recently and that's why they needed a nanny.

"I've got to go now." Mr Maitland suddenly said, kissing each of his children on the forehead. "Bye!"

He walked out of the door, leaving Clara with the children. "So, what do you want to do?" She asked kindly.

"You're weird." Angie said randomly, crossing her legs and folding her arms in an exaggerated sigh.

"Thank you?" Clara asked nervously.

"It's not a good thing." She retorted, walking to the kitchen counter to get herself an apple. "You act funny. "

"How so?" Clara questioned, intrigued.

"You just...seem different, like a nervous rabbit. I don't know why."

Clara nodded her confusion off and turned to the boy who was tugging at her sleeve and begging her to play hide and seek. It seemed that this day was going to be more tiring than she'd bargained for.

* * *

 

She finally returned home and collapsed onto the sofa. "Fun day looking after the children?" John said from behind her, holding out a cup of tea.

"Exhausting. The girl doesn't seem to like me and I think the boy likes me too much." She moaned.

"Be careful. The boy might develop a crush. You're only nineteen." John teased. Clara gave him a death glare and he immediately shut up.

"He's nine. And, I don't mind it. I'm just not used to running around after kids everywhere. Anyway, Mr Maitland asked if I could pick them up from school every day which I've agreed to. It's good money and I'm not nineteen."

John shrugged his shoulders. "Can never argue with more money. It's all anyone seems to care about here." He walked away for a moment. "Hang on, not nineteen?"

"I'm twenty." She replied dismissively, turning her attention to a book on the table.

"Since when?" John asked curiously.

"Since seven months ago." Clara replied casually. John gave a her a confused stare.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, a little bit hurt that she hadn't told him. Mind, he hadn't asked.

"Hate birthdays. When was yours?" She asked, changing the direction of the question.

"It's 17th June. One month away." He told her. "I don't celebrate it though, so don't even think about doing anything."

"Why would I?" She replied truthfully. "Like I said, I hate birthdays."

Clara walked over to the post-box and looked through. She spotted one with a fake return address that they used in the KGB.

She opened the letter to find a description of something addressed to the both of them. "John, we have a mission!" she called.

She thought she heard a grunt from him before he joined her and read the details.

* * *

 

Clara waited at the bar, ordering a Shirley temple. She could briefly see John out of the corner of her eye at the back of the club.

All the men who walked past stopped to look at her. She was wearing an extremely short, skin tight dress. Her hair was down and her heels were quite high. She looked around until she saw her target, two barstools down. The bar was quite loud, but not exceedingly so. It was enough to speak and not be heard.

She waited until the person next to her had gone before she moved next to the man. "Hey." She smiled sweetly at him, sitting beside him.

"Oh, hi. I'm Jim." He replied, gaping at her. Like all the other men his eyes were focused on her body, just like she'd intended them to be. She studied him closely.

The object she needed to retrieve was around his neck. It was a memory chip containing vital information. She had a fake, ready to swap. She just needed to get close enough.

She ordered another drink and begun to flirt with Jim. She was practically on his lap, making him head over heels.

John was watching their every move, making sure the plan worked fine. The way she giggled into the man's ear was priceless. It was clearly making him come apart at the seams. She whispered things to him, their lips grazing as he fingers danced over his tie.

She looked truly irresistible and she knew it. She wrapped her arms around his neck to see if she would be able to take off the necklace. She used the time she spent kissing him to try and undo his chain. Unfortunately, he pulled away too soon and she had to start flirting again.

Once she had flirted with him for half an hour, he suggested they go to his hotel room which was above the bar. She put her hand behind her back and snapped her fingers twice to tell John what was going on, before following the man closely.

John walked outside to the car to wait for her there. He was extremely bored knowing he'd have to wait a while. He hoped she wouldn't take long. The thought of what she would be doing made his stomach churn, considering the man must have been about sixty years old.

* * *

 

She took forty minutes to come out, running over to the car. "How'd it go?" John asked, turning on the ignition and driving away.

Clara glanced at him quickly before turning away. "I kept my hand in his pants until he was screaming loudly so he wouldn't notice and then I drugged him and switched the chips out." she said blankly.

John clenched his jaw as he felt his face start to turn red and he squirmed in his seat. He knew he should have expected that answer but it still hit him in the face. This was their life, they lied and cheated and slept with whoever they had to until they had exactly what they wanted and then they left without a trace

John had to glance over to her in admiration for what she'd just done though, although her face was blank. She did that a lot he noticed. He knew she could be violent, he experienced that everyday. He knew she could be flirty because he'd just witnessed. He just didn't understand why she always put up a façade. Maybe she was broken underneath.

It could be that she hated him and wanted him to think she was emotionless or that she just generally was, which he highly doubted. But somehow, amongst all of this, he'd managed to find a bit of respect for her. That much he knew.


	4. What I Hide Inside

_Clara was the best girl in the class. At least, that's what they said. She worked hard and was a good fighter; willing to learn. All the trainers thought she was great._

_That's why she was so excited to get a private training lesson with the commanding officer. She must have been recommended for her hard work to receive such an honour._

_She waited in the gym patiently for ten minutes until he arrived. "Ah,_ _hello_." _He said boldly._

_"Hello." She replied politely. He took up a fighting position when he reached the mats in the centre of the room where she was standing._

_She threw a punch at him and he knocked it aside, laughing at her feeble attempt. She tried again and he merely laughed when he dodged it._

_His laughs made her angry. She wanted to prove that she could fight. She tried to punch him twice more, each attempt as much of a fail as the last. She then threw a punch before turning around and kicking him._

_He grabbed her leg when it reached him and twisted it so that she fell down onto the floor. She wanted to get up and show him that she could fight better than that, but he held her down and climbed atop her._

_She struggled underneath him as he twisted her body so that she was facing upwards. He grabbed her hands and held them together with one hand, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down._

_She tried to scream out, but he clasped her mouth shut. "No-one can hear you. Just relax and you'll enjoy it." He whispered into her ear._

_She struggled beneath him, but it was useless. He made haste to pull down the trousers she was wearing, to her knees. She wanted to hide her face into the mat beneath her, all dignity leaving her body._

_Fighting was helpless, but she still tried anyway. Tears built up in her eyes although she refused to let him see her cry. She would not give him that benefit._

_He used his knee to nudge her thighs apart before forcing himself inside her._

_She cried out in pain, trying to move but he had her pinned down in place. Each time he pushed into her, she whimpered softly knowing that no-one would hear._

_After it was over she lay on the mat, unable to move. He left the room silently. He didn't need to tell her to keep quiet. This would only cause the men to look down on her more and call her weak._

_She could feel blood trickling down her leg. She wanted to scream and cry, but there was no point. Everybody would have heard her, but nobody would have listened._

* * *

 

"Clara, wake up." John shook her until she woke. "Come on." He shook her harder.

"Wh...What?" She asked drowsily.

"You know the man who revealed a sleeper cell? Well he didn't do it alone and we have about an hour to pick up the other person and hand them to the embassy where they can be shipped back to Moscow for trial. Come on!"

Clara quickly jumped out of bed and rushed to put her clothes on. "How come this guy is being let off more by the Russians? These are different orders to last time."

John saw she was ready as they headed towards the door. "Because the traitor is Nikolay Golovin."

Clara stopped in her tracks. "Golovin?" She asked him quietly.

"Yes, Golovin. The officer from training, I know. I'm guessing you met him?"

"Yeah. Yes, I met him."

Clara begun walking again, trying to clear her head. That name was one she'd prayed she would never hear again. She hoped he was killed. She'd always thought she'd be the one to do it.

They drove to a nearby building and waited again. The routine for kidnapping was relatively easy. After nine months of being together, Clara and John pretty much knew how to carry out a perfect murder and abduction.

She waited on the street with her purse, looking up every few seconds for a signal from John that he was arriving. When she finally saw it, she dropped her purse into the road.

She begun walking to get it, making sure a car drove past. She was about to walk in front of it when two strong arms pulled her back. "Careful there." The man behind her said, and she knew it was him. His English was a lot weaker than she'd remembered it to be.

As she turned around, John put the bag on his head and pushed him into the car. By the time he'd though to cry out for help, they were long gone.

Clara held him down in the backseat, tying his hands behind his back and his feet together. She pushed his face down into the seat so he his shouts were muffled.

They quickly pulled up into a driveway, where they dragged Golovin into the boot and slammed it shut. They now had ten minutes to get him to the embassy before people would find out.

Clara looked at her watch. She knew they were too far away. They would never make it in time. John drove as fast as he could, also suspicious of time.

She saw him press his foot harder on the accelerator when she told him they had two minutes left. They were both praying for a miracle. If they were too late, there was no other chance to take him back to Russia. He would be in police protection by then.

They turned down the street, finally making it. They knew the moment they got there that they had missed it by five minutes. John slammed his first down on the wheel and cried out.

"Shit." Clara shouted, hitting the dash. "We have to hide him." She told John.

"Where? We'll have to release him back to the police!" John shouted in reply.

"He's seen our fucking faces, he knows it's us! We can't turn him in!" Clara shouted. "Take him back home. Now!"

They were both panicking. They didn't want to be caught. John restarted the car and rove back to their flat. He could see Clara breathing heavily from the corner of his eye. She was just as panicked as he was, although she was trying to maintain some sort of clear head.

When they arrived back at the flat, John opened the boot and helped Clara carry him into the house, clamping his mouth shut so no-one would hear his shouts. She found a ball gag in a drawer and tied it on Golovin so he wouldn't make a sound.

John then found the straight jacket they'd been given and put it on him. He made sure it was extra tight, staring Golovin in the eye each second.

Clara was avoiding him as much as possible, instead organising what to do next. "We need to put him somewhere. I'd say the bathroom but it depends on how long he'll be here for. I don't want him in the wardrobe, which leaves the airing cupboard." She said all these things mostly to herself.

"Airing cupboard." She turned around and told John. He dragged Golovin to the airing cupboard as he uselessly protested. John left the cupboard open for a moment so he could talk to him.

"I'm going to remove the gag." He said slowly. "If you shout, I will slit your throat." He pulled out a knife from behind his back and held it in his hand. He then leant forward and removed the gag.

Clara walked over as John cried out in pain. It seemed Golovin had bit him and now had a knife up against his throat. "Why did you sell out people from your own country?" John asked angrily.

"They paid me a million pounds. An entire million just to sell out two people. Wouldn't you do it?"

John punched him in the face. "And betray my country? No."

He re-tied the gag and locked the cupboard. John stood up fully and turned around to face Clara.

"He should be secure in there." She murmured. He nodded in agreement with her.

"Don't worry, he'll be gone soon." John re-assured.

"Not soon enough."

John could tell something was up with Clara. She spent the entire night tossing and turning. She wasn't sleeping at all and she kept shivering. He figured it was because she was nervous, although he knew that wasn't true.

* * *

 

The next morning, John got ready for work as usual. Clara got up and made herself breakfast as he fastened his bow-tie. Since coming to England, he really had discovered the worst fashion sense that probably possible to mankind. He did the exact opposite of blending in, which really didn't help. He looked more like a Victorian aristocrat that an everyday person.

"I'm staying here today." Clara told John. "Don't have to work, so I'll get the housework done."

John walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips from behind. "If he is dead when I get home tonight..."

"I know, I'm not going to kill him." She snapped back. He took a step back and raised his hands in the air.

"Just warning you." John said defensively. "See you tonight."

He grabbed his bag and left for work. Clara made sure she was busy all day, trying to ignore the man who was in the airing cupboard. When she'd been washing up, she picked up a knife and spent ten minutes blankly staring at it. She eventually put it down, in fear that if carried on holding it nothing would stop her from taking the steps towards the cupboard and killing him.

The only way to keep the urges off her mind was to sleep them off. She took a long sleep, hoping it would relax her.

The moment she closed her eyes, her nightmare came back. She had it often and it was all because of him. The man currently residing in her airing cupboard.

That thought made her want to curl as far away from him as possible from fear. She hated him and wanted revenge more than anyone.

She let out a huge sigh of relief when she heard the door open and John shouted her name. "In the bedroom!" She called, running out to him.

She gave him a friendly hug which took him by surprise. Clara was never nice to him and he couldn't recall ever receiving a hug from her before. He had definitely given them but never received one.

"You okay?" He asked gently as he pulled back.

"Fine." She smiled. He glanced over to the cupboard and nodded towards it. "He's still there." she told him and raised his eyebrows. "Alive." She added on the end.

"Good." He smiled before walking into the kitchen and preparing their meal.

Clara sat on the sofa, staring at the cupboard as John talked. She couldn't stop thinking about what happened two years ago in Moscow.

She ate her dinner silently before retiring to her bedroom. John came in a short while later too and lay beside her. She could tell he was still awake, although she didn't know why. They were both still in their clothes as if they had to go somewhere.

* * *

 

After an hour, he got up and walked into the living room. Clara waited until he wouldn't see her before she stood up and walked to the doorway to watch them.

He opened the airing cupboard and pulled out Golovin. He slowly untied his straight jacket and removed the ball gag.

"Quickly, go." John told him, pointing to the door. Golovin stared at John.

"Why are you saving me?" He asked. John heaved a sigh and looked up to him honestly.

"You trained me. It's the least I can do." John replied. "I don't want to kill you, and I know that they will kill you. Just don't turn us in." He gave Golovin a threatening look before walking him towards the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" Clara stood out of the doorway and challenged John.

"Setting him free so we're not sent to prison." John replied, trying to get the traitor out. Clara ran over to him and pushed him back from the door.

"That's exactly where we'll go if he is free!" She hissed at John. "He's a traitor."

John stared Clara in the eye. "He's a good man. I know him."

"He's a bastard. I know him." Clara replied. John didn't have time to question what Clara meant before she sent two blows into Golovin's stomach. He keeled over in pain, trying to fight back.

Clara kicked him until he fell back and then carried on kicking him on the floor. He tried to get up but she kicked his face so he felt back down.

John ran forward to stop Clara but she threw a hand in front of him. "Don't you dare John" She spat towards him, carrying on her fight.

"Get up!" She shouted at Golovin who slowly got off the floor. The moment he was on his knees again, she punched him once more. She allowed him to throw a few hits in there, each time making him miss. She waited until he felt useless before she punched him again and kicked him down to the floor and against the wall.

Just as she was about to kick him in the face again, he lifted his head up and said "I'm sorry."

She stopped and stared at him. "I never meant to hurt you." He added.

How could he say that? He clearly hurt her. She was shocked he even remembered. Her eyes were fixed onto his eyes as she froze in shock and hatred and fear.

"What does he mean?" John asked, reminding Clara that he was still there. "How did he hurt you?"

"I'm sorry. The officers were allowed their way with the interns. One of the perks."

She fought against the water building up in her eyes and contained all the screams she wanted to let out. She was stuck in between so many emotions that she felt empty.

"What are you talking about?" John asked once more.

Clara managed to snatch her gaze away and she slowly turned, walking back to the bedroom. "Do what you want with him." She murmured to John emotionlessly. "Turn him into the British."

Clara had barely reached the bedroom door, when she heard a loud crash from behind her. She turned around startled, to see John pinning Golovin up against the wall. John's actions were full of rage as he held his hands tight around Golovin's neck, choking him in seconds.

John allowed his body to fall to the floor before turning around to face a very shocked Clara. She looked from John to the body, unsure of what to say or do. She looked up to John and stared at him for a minute, trying to tell him what she couldn't ever form in words. The anger towards Golovin was evident in John's eyes. His whole body seemed to radiate his fury, but it somehow relaxed her to know that this was because of her own hurt.

They put the body in a bag and drove to the river. After covering the body in acid and filling the bag with stones, they dumped it so it would never be found underneath the murky waters of the Thames.

Clara looked down for the entire journey back, not making a sound. John tried to keep himself together for her sake, knowing that she could break at any moment. She always held all of her emotions in to avoid being broken, because that's what she was inside; broken.

When they arrived back at the apartment, John went straight to the bedroom so he could sleep. Clara locked up before following him there and sitting beside him on the bed, slowly trying to think of what she could possibly say to him.

She put her hand in his lap, when she found no words and realised that only actions would do. He looked into her eyes for a moment, finally seeing behind her façade. She was so hurt and distressed, but she could still love. Clara leant in slowly and began to kiss him, her eyes drooping shut. John responded gently, his hands coming up cup her face. He knew that this was her way of finally accepting him as someone she cared about.

The kiss gained more and more passion as Clara climbed over to straddle him. She ran her fingers through his hair before running her nails gently down his clothed back. He sighed at the sensation and she began to unbutton his shirt, hesitantly at first and then gradually gaining speed as her confidence grew.

He kissed her with everything he knew. He knew he felt something strong for her, whether that be love or just a good friendship.

She removed his shirt and he let her hands roam his chest. As her fingers trickled down lower, he moved them onto the middle of the bed and swapped them around so he was on top.

He left one hand cupping her face, their lips locked, and his other hand tugged at the bottom of her shirt, requesting permission. Her shirt was quickly removed and soon, so was the rest of restricting clothing.

He lay Clara down gently, kissing her slowly. He was asking a question, which she answered when she wrapped her legs around his waist. This wasn't an act of true love. They couldn't describe what exactly it was, but they knew that it was right; for them.

She gasped into his neck as they joined, kissing it and sinking her teeth in gently to make a light mark. He cried out at the sensation, holding her tighter.

Each move was a dance, perfectly timed as they built up to the end, spinning and moving together.

She saw the stars behind her eyes and collapsed into his soothing arms with a lustful kiss on his lips. He whispered her name before he fell beside her, pulling her in close. He ran his fingers through her hair as she rested her head upon his chest.

"I'm sorry." Clara whispered, trailing her finger up and down his chest.

"Why are you sorry?" John replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead as he stroked small strands of hair out of her face.

"For everything." She whispered. "For what happened earlier when I shouted at you. For always shouting at you..." He cut her off with a kiss, holding her tighter.

"You had every right to hate me. Don't ever be sorry." He murmured into her hair, rubbing her back soothingly.

She sighed into his chest. "We're friends right?" She asked nervously, looking up to face him. "I mean, we like each other?"

John kissed her temple and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "Of course I like you. I like you a lot." He admitted truthfully.

She threw her leg over his to get into a more comfortable position. "Good. I like you a lot too. Although, you can annoy me a bit." She teased as she looked down and thought over something. "I don't hate you John. It's just, sometimes I don't feel like I'm me, so I can't have any emotions. I feel like I shouldn't feel anything because it's all fake" Usually, she would have scolded herself for allowing these emotions to leak through, but right now John was what she needed and she couldn't have asked for anything more. She kissed his chest before snuggling up to him and closing her eyes. "Do you know what I mean?" John nodded and she gave him a small smile. "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight, my Clara." He murmured gently.


	5. The Other Side of Me

Clara threw her bag down on the floor as she walked in the room. It had been a long day looking after the kids and she'd ended up doing half of their homework for them, for which she was not entirely amused. It wasn't like she couldn't do it, she just did things differently to them and had to learn whole new ways.

"John?" She called through the flat. He should have been home an hour before her as she was doing an evening slot. She walked towards the bathroom and knocked twice, the door opening slightly. She frowned when she found no-one there and called his name once more.

She walked into the bedroom slowly and tutted under her breath upon seeing John asleep on the bed. She walked over to him and was going to join him, when she saw a screwed up piece of paper in his hand.

Clara leaned over to John to see tear stains on his cheeks and she grew extremely concerned. As much as she'd deny it, she loved John in a way. They'd grown closer as of late and she found herself caring for him much more. Without waking him up, she removed the paper from his clenched fist and unraveled it.

Her eyes scanned over the words and she felt an anger growing in the pit of her stomach. She was about to walk away when she felt John grab her wrist suddenly.

He still looked half asleep but she had forgotten how good his reflexes were. "What are you doing?" John asked, sitting up upon realising the piece of paper he'd been holding as he slept was now in Clara's hands.

"I should ask you the same thing!" Clara snapped back. John stood up of the bed and took two small steps towards her.

"Can I just have my letter back please?" He asked calmly, clearly annoyed that she had taken it from him.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Clara murmured in horror. "We could be killed for this! They could have found us by now! We might have blown our entire mission because of this letter!"

John grew annoyed. "It's just a letter Clara. It's not like..."

"It's in Russian! With top secret details and code names! It has the locations of another agent! It has our damn location!"

"Clara calm down..." John started. Clara opened her mouth to shout once again but he forced his hand over it and grabbed the back of her head so she couldn't pull back. "It doesn't matter, okay?"

She stayed calm, long enough for him to release his grip on her head. Then the full fury kicked in.

"Who the hell is it from?" She asked accusingly. "Traitors?"

John's eyes grew wider at her accusation and it took al of his self-restraint not to get violent. He'd only ever been taught to release his anger on people in missions. He highly doubted it would look good though if his wife suddenly had a black eye.

"I am not a traitor Clara."

"Then why are you trading secrets?"

"They're not...they're not secrets. The code names aren't other agents Clara." He paused before taking a deep breath. "River, the sender of the letter, she...She is, I mean, she was my girlfriend. We ended it for the mission. She'd happened to be in England and found someone I work with to hand this to me."

Clara shook her head in anger. "She just write it in Russian then? Nothing suspicious at all, is it? A love letter in Russian to an alleged married man who's credentials might pop up wrong? That's going to look great in the police's eyes. Just peachy!" Clara knew that this anger was coming from some feeling of betrayal, but she refused to admit that to herself.

"It's just a letter to say hello, that's all!"

"It's dangerous."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"Moya zhizn nye dlya vas, chtoby igrat! Ty nye yedinstvyennyy, kto dolzhyen byl idti na zhyertvy!"

John froze when he realised that Clara had not been speaking in English. Clara stopped and stared at the floor for a while too. They had not spoken Russian in nearly a year. She had no idea where her words had come from. She'd been thinking about the letter and shouting and then that came out.

"I have to go." Clara murmured, eyes still directed to the floor. John simply nodded and stayed where he was. She walked to the sofa and grabbed her bag. John made his way to the doorway of the bedroom and stared at her.

"I..." She started. "I'll be back soon." She twisted the doorknob and opened the door. As she made a step out, she remembered something vital and leaned her head back in. "Burn the letter, for all of our sakes."

Clara stepped out into the cold hallway, shivering from the sudden temperature change.

"Marriage problems?" A voice asked and Clara spun her head around to be greeted with Mr Maitland.

"Something like that." Clara replied, smiling slightly on the end.

"Sorry, I'd come down to collect my post and I heard shouting." Mr Maitland explained.

Clara smiled sweetly. "It's fine. Must have sounded pretty bad huh?" She asked cautiously.

"Just a bit." He agreed. "Well, you know, it could have been worse." He shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the stairwell.

"How so?" Clara asked, turning to face him. This time she was genuinely asking him and he shot her a friendly smile.

"You could have been fighting in German." He laughed. "Sounds quite rough to foreigners."

Clara giggled and nodded. "I guess it does." She replied. Mr Maitland began walking up the stairs slowly. After his fourth step, he turned back to Clara.

"No, even worse, Russian! Now that is one very violent language when they shout! No wonder we're at war with them! They probably just asked for a fag and were misunderstood!"

Clara bit her lip and frowned. "It's not that rough, is it?"

He turned around to face her with a puzzled look. "Where have you been living? I guess it isn't to them, but it really is to us."

Clara gave off a fake laugh and nodded her head. "Never heard the language." She lied. "I don't watch the news very often." Another lie.

"Yeah." Mr Maitland shrugged in confusion. He could have sworn she'd been watching a news broadcast about Russia with the kids when he'd got home that evening. "Goodnight Clara."

"Goodnight sir." She nodded her greeting to him before leaving the building, glad to be rid of the awkward conversation.

* * *

 

John heard the door click as Clara returned. He'd done as she said and burnt the letter. After two hours of thinking it over, he'd realised that Clara had been right. That letter could have cost them their lives.

He waited for Clara to come into the bedroom. When she didn't, he grew concerned and almost of out of bed to check on her. His worry died down though when he heard the kettle being put on. Clara had adopted a very British tradition of drinking tea, which he personally found despicable. He'd never in fact, tried the beverage but he wasn't too keen on doing so.

Half an hour passed before Clara came into the bedroom. He opened one of his shut eyes and saw her reach into the bottom of the wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" He asked tiredly.

"Considering you are mad and a trained killer, the couch seems like a safer place for me to sleep tonight." She muttered, pulling a duvet and pillow out into her arms.

"Clara..." John whined. "I'm not angry anymore. You can sleep in the bed." He said simply.

"It's not Friday." Clara spat. "I'm not your toy."

John raised his hands in defence. "I was suggesting that, and since when has the Friday rule come back into play?"

"Since my husband is an arsehole."

Clara turned to face him and scowled. John looked towards her and had the overwhelming urge to hug her. She looked so adorable when she pulled a face, which he would never admit to her.

"And my wife is stubborn. Just get in Clara." John groaned.

Clara stared at him angrily before dropping the bedding and making her way to her side of the bed. She slipped off her shoes before slipping under the covers fully clothed.

John chuckled at her before turning in her direction. "Not changing?"

"Don't want to." She mumbled, lying down under the covers and turning away from John.

He lifted his hand and lightly drew random patterns on her back with his finger. The feeling calmed Clara enough to make her turn around.

"There you are." John murmured, stroking two fingers down the side of her face. "Thought you'd disappeared."

Clara raised her eyebrows at his awful attempt at a joke. "What do you want?" She asked exasperatingly.

"Doctor." John whispered after a few moments silence. "The person in the letter called Doctor was me. River is her codename. We haven't seen each other in two years. We were in love once, I think. So long ago now I can barely remember."

Clara frowned. "Why Doctor? And River?"

"Because I lived opposite a hospital and she lived opposite a river as a child."

The following silence went on far too long for Clara's liking.

"I didn't mean to upset you earlier, it's just I..." he began.

"I understand." Clara smiled.

"It had never occurred to me that it could cause trouble. It was...stupid. I should have left all that back at home." He muttered.

"Yeah it was stupid." She agreed. John smiled at pecked her lips cautiously. When he realised she wasn't angry or complaining, he opened his arms and pulled her in for a hug.

Clara buried her face into his chest, seeking some comfort which, although this wasn't the ideal place, she couldn't find anywhere else.

John pushed her hair back from her neck and began lightly kissing the soft patch of skin.

Clara whimpered in complaint and he ceased his actions. "According to that handy alarm clock you bought, it's 12.03. That means it's Friday."

She hadn't intended on agreeing with him, but she did. She somehow found comfort in the warmth of his body. He was the only security she had anymore and that particular quality made him slightly more endearing.

She hoped she wasn't, for the problem of getting too attached, beginning to develop feelings for John even though she knew deep inside that they had already dropped their anchors on her heart.


	6. Maybe We Mean Something

Clara felt her face being flicked by the children. "Stop it." She mumbled. She'd fallen asleep on the job after having a restless night on a mission.

"Clara!" Artie shouted in her face to wake her up. "There's a strange man at the door asking for you."

Clara immediately jumped up. "You answered the door?" She cried, running to check who it was.

"You wouldn't wake up!" Angie complained, following her to the doorway. She quickly straightened out her hair and then opened the door. She was relieved to find it was just John.

"It's just my husband, don't worry kids." She said to them smiling. "You coming in?" She asked John sweetly.

John found it very amusing how Clara had picked up a Northern accent even more, although she was meant to be from Blackpool. He'd suspected she'd lose it living in London but she hadn't.

"Actually..." John started, shuffling his feet. "Can we talk outside?" He looked at Clara nervously and she knew the kids were eyeing her.

She turned back to them and smiled. "I'll be five minutes, okay?" She asked them.

"Yeah whatever." Angie murmured, walking to the fridge to get out something to eat.

Clara stepped into the hallway and looked around for other people. She knew he probably had something to tell her about the job. He always had that specific look, but this time it also had a hint of nervousness in it.

"What do they want us to do?" She asked quietly, mumbling in case the kids were listening in.

John took a few deep breaths, straightening himself out. "They've said we've been married for nearly a year now and that we...um..." He kept thinking of ways to put it and Clara got annoyed by his lack of speaking skills in that moment.

"Well spit it out." She complained, folding her arms and legs casually.

"They want you to be pregnant within the year." John mumbled, barely moving his mouth. Clara only just heard what he said but it was enough to make her face drop shape by a mile.

"What?" She whispered shakily. "I mean..." She put her head in her hands to think for a minute. "I knew this had to happen, I just...I didn't think I'd be so shocked about it."

She twisted her fingers around each other and waited for John to speak. "It doesn't have to be right away. We can wait a while, you know?"

Clara paused to take a breath, contemplating it before shaking her head slowly. "This basically means "as soon as possible." We can't afford to wait. We should...we should try as soon as we can, you know?"

John nodded awkwardly, unsure of how he could respond in this situation. Clara looked everywhere else in the hallway but John, desperate to not make eye contact with him.

After about a minute of an exhausting silence, John opened his arms up and took a step forward. "C'mere." He said sweetly.

Clara fell into John's chest, pulling her arms in tight and closing her eyes. He kissed her hair a few times, stroking it at the same time. They may have been in an awkward situation and not entirely happy about it, but they couldn't deny that a hug wouldn't do them any good. Clara knew John was one of her greatest friends, she'd even say she loved him if she would allow herself to feel that. She was determined not to as this was not a marriage of love. This marriage was for work and for a mission and she couldn't allow her feelings to come ahead of that at any point. That's why it was easier to stay detached.

But the longer they spent time together, being there for one another and pretending to be married, the harder it was going to be for them to not have feelings. That point is inevitable. John had tried to be a good husband and remain distant and he'd very quickly realised it wouldn't work.

It was just having a baby that put it all into context for them. Most children grow up, imagining they will meet the love of their lives and live happily ever after with several children and a good job. Even as an adult, realising that everything in your life will be determined by someone else is a hard concept to grasp and to realise that your childhood dream will never come true is even harder.

In honesty, Clara felt too young. She was nearly twenty-one, but she still felt like a child at heart. John was twenty-two soon and that was still incredibly young. Clara didn't understand why they wanted them to have a child so quickly. It didn't seem that practical to her and she knew it wasn't the most appropriate age within England.

After all these thoughts ran through her head, Clara stood back from John and gently rubbed her eyes to stop any oncoming tears. "I'll see you tonight, yeah?" She asked with a hoarse voice.

"Yeah." He smiled at her and she returned it willingly. As John started to move away, she turned back to the door and opened it. She wasn't at all surprised when she saw the two children standing close to the door as they had been listening in.

"Clara?" Artie asked innocently. "Are you having a baby?"

Clara wasn't entirely sure how to answer him and was grateful when Angie elbowed him in the chest to buy her some time.

"No pea brain, but she's planning it with her husband. Aren't you Clara?" Angie said happily.

"Umm..." Clara started, blinking away all thought in her head momentarily. "Yeah, yes I am."

Artie walked over to her and gave her a hug, wrapping his arms around her small body and she choked a small cough. "Then why are you crying Clara?" He asked quietly.

Clara looked down to him with an unexpected maternal feeling. She knelt down so her eyes were at his level and ruffled his hair. "Because my Mum won't be able to see the baby and I just miss her." She smiled.

Initially, she had been upset because she was still unsure of having a child, but putting into perspective what she had just said, she wished more than anything that her mother would be there for her in this moment. She always knew what to say and it killed Clara that she could never speak to her again.

"I miss my Mum too." Artie muttered. Clara's heart broke at his words and she pulled him in for a tight hug, kissing his forehead gently.

"Hey, you know what?" She asked sweetly, opening her other arm up for a hesitant Angie to join in. "As your Dad is back late tonight, how about we make hot chocolate watch TV and eat some marshmallows. I have some in my flat."

Artie's face lit up by the sound of marshmallows and even Angie looked happy. Artie ran off to his room to grab his pyjamas eagerly but Angie stayed back for a moment.

"I know what you're doing for him." The girl began. "But you're not our Mum."

"I'm not trying to be." Clara replied. "I know how it feels to lose a Mum and no-one will ever replace her." She looked as honest as she could towards Angie, hoping that would be enough for her. The girl grunted before going off to her room to get her pyjamas. Clara waited until they were gone to quickly sneak downstairs and get the treats.

* * *

 

After many marshmallows and lots of fun huddled up on the sofa, Clara put Artie to bed. He was only nine and Clara actually enjoyed making sure he was happy.

"Clara?" he asked as he lay down. "Could you sing me a lullaby? My Mum used to do it and I miss it."

Clara opened her mouth to object, but the look in the boy's eyes told her she shouldn't. "I don't really sing." She said quietly. "And I don't know too many lullabies."

Artie shook his head gently. "Well what do you know?"

Clara considered her next words for a moment. "I know a few that aren't in English. They're still nice though."

"Could you still sing it to me?" He asked tiredly, yawning at the end.

Clara nodded and lifted his covers so he could properly tuck himself in. Once he was ready, she begun to sing. The words rolled of her tongue as he Mother had once sung them to her.

It was always her favourite lullaby. Even once he fell into a light sleep, she carried on singing. When the song ended, she checked to see Artie was asleep, brushing his hair out of his face.

"What language is that?" Angie whispered. Clara didn't turn her head, already knowing she'd been listening at the door.

"Russian." Clara replied softly, looking down at Artie still.

Angie smiled to herself. "What does it mean?" She asked.

Clara stood up off the edge of the bed, where she was perched, and walked towards Angie. They both left the room, turning out the light.

"It means "Sleep now, close your little eyes. Bayukshi bayu." Clara murmured affectionately.

"What does that last thing mean?"

"It's kind of like what hushaby means." Clara explained.

Angie smiled before wrapping her arms around Clara. "Thank you." She whispered. "You made Artie so happy today and me too. I don't care if you're secretly Russian either."

Clara pulled back from the hug in a moment's shock. "What are you talking about?" She asked Angier seriously, trying not to show her panic but more her confusion.

"Nothing, I mean...it's just weird s'all. I was just joking."

Clara visibly relaxed until Angie carried on. "Because Dad told me that you said you'd never heard Russian before in your life. But you were just singing it so fluently, so obviously you have. And sometimes you swear in other languages when you don't think I'm around."

Clara felt her heart drop as Angie spoke. Only the innocence of a child could have seen all that.

"I'm..." Clara whispered. "I'm not Russian." She stuttered on her words, trying to find something she could say that would reasonable. "I was born there and moved here as a kid. Do you know what would happen to me if anyone knows I'm Russian?"

Angie looked at her comfortingly. "I know. Don't worry, I won't say anything. Does your husband know?"

Clara looked down at her feet. "Yeah he does. He understands."

* * *

 

Clara lay down in her bed, facing away from John. How come they always ended up like this?

Clara turned around and tapped John on the shoulder. He turned to face her and she realised the were a lot closer that she'd first realised. She opened her mouth to speak but instead he pulled her into a hug and kissed her head. "Sssh." He hushed. "We have a long time to think about it."

"I know." Clara whispered. She snuggled further into his bare chest and took comfort in knowing he was there. "I just had a thought that hit me though."

John looked down to her but she left her head into his chest. He could feel her breathing and his heart increased in speed, but she left it to go unnoticed. "What is it?" He asked gently.

"My kids, our kids...they'll think they're English won't they? They'll go to English school with English friends and English jobs. I won't be able to tell them about my childhood or sing them my favourite lullabies or..." She stopped from getting herself too worked up.

"I'm sorry." John whispered. He lifted Clara's chin to place a kiss on her lips, softened slightly from the tears that had just begun to fall. He kissed away each teardrop and rubbed her back soothingly. He felt a responsibility towards Clara unlike he had anyone ever before. In his eyes, she was so young and so was he. He felt like they should be working their way through this life together and he actually knew deep down that he loved this woman he'd been paired with. She was so smart and kind and beautiful, all the things he valued in a woman.

"Why are you sorry?" Clara whispered.

"Because I can't change it for you." He replied honestly. "But I promise to try and make our kids as happy as we can. We can still sing Russian lullabies if you want to when they are babies you know?"

Clara nodded slowly, letting her eyes droop. John kissed her eyelids and she pulled her arms around him tight. "Oh John..." She whispered. "I think I...I think I love you." Tears dripped from her eyes and she didn't know why. "I'm sorry, I never meant to..."

John cut her off by pulling back and gently touching his lips to hers. "Don't ever be sorry Clara. Because you know what? I think I love you too."

Clara choked a soft sob before pulling his lips back to hers. It didn't take long before their kisses turned from gently and reassuring to lustful.

John rolled himself on top of Clara, caressing her skin lightly as she removed her nightdress. She did the same to him, pulling down his boxer shorts eagerly

Whenever their mouths weren't engaged in a blissful connection with the other, they were hot on each other's skin. Every touch made Clara feel alive and she knew that John was feeling the same way.

This time, when he pushed into her, it felt like a declaration of love. This was their new beginning. They actually wanted this and Clara knew that she wouldn't be afraid if John was by her side.

They held out for each other, trying to stay in this moment for as long as possible. After she lost all self restraint, Clara cried out John's name into kiss neck, sucking and biting behind his ear.

John followed quickly behind with her name and a long groan, before falling beside her and pulling her into his arms. He planted kisses all over her face as Clara trailed her fingers lightly down his chest from exhaustion.

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs feeling happy and actually looking forward for what the future had in store for them.


	7. Getting Attatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, When I wrote in Russian, that meant "My life is not for you to gamble. I've made sacrifices too" for all of those who may have wanted to know :)

Clara stared down at the plastic stick in her hands patiently. She was perched on the edge of the bathtub with her knees shaking. She could hear John pacing outside the door.

This was long past the first time they'd been in this situation so far. She closed her eyes and took a long breath.

The sound of her timer going off made her eyes span wide open and she peeked down to look at the results.

John jumped to face Clara as he heard the bathroom door click open. She came out to face him. He tilted his head slightly in a questioning manner and she responded with a small shake of her head.

John simply nodded at the information and looked away, walking out of the bedroom to get his things ready for work. Clara followed after getting dressed, putting on the kettle and some bread in the toaster.

She now had a part-time job at the local school as a teaching assistant. She wanted to learn more about English education before she attempted it herself.

She was silent as John walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her petite frame. He kissed her shoulder gently and in a comforting manner.

"I've been thinking John." Clara murmured slowly. "What if...what if I can't have kids?"

John stilled behind her before holding her tight again. "What makes you say that?" He asked gently.

"The fact that we still haven't got anywhere. I know that it's only been four months but...well, it's not like we haven't been trying very hard is it?"

John nodded and tugged on her shoulder so she would turn to face him. He enveloped her into his chest and kissed her hair. "You shouldn't think that just yet. We've got a while."

Clara held onto him for a few minutes in silence before coughing and excusing herself. "I'm going to work." She said to inform him as she grabbed her bag and left the house, leaving the kettle to boil and the toast to burn.

She helped out one of the English teachers, Tom, most of the time. She got along with him well and he was very helpful to her. He also liked her a little more than he should, but Clara didn't hold him against it.

* * *

 

She was picking up paper from the floor after a year seven lesson where they had cut out and stuck down some sentences when Tom approached her.

"Clara?" He asked gently. "Are you okay? You seem a little stressed." He asked with concern, his hand finding the spot between her shoulder blades as she stood up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She murmured absent-mindedly. She took the papers in her hand to the bin at the other end of the classroom, aware Tom was following her. She dropped them into the black tub and turned to face Tom, his proximity closer than she'd first thought.

She took a step back awkwardly and coughed. Tom raised his eyebrows at her rather than repeating the question and she shrugged. "Just some marriage problems, you know." She mumbled. "They don't matter."

"Come on Clara, tell me." Tom pleaded, hoping she could treat him as a friend.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "I thought I was pregnant..." Tom's eyes widened as Clara continued. "And before you even give me that face, I'm not! I just thought I was and really need to be."

Clara realised her slip on words quickly. "Want to be, even." She corrected, hoping it would slip his mind.

Tom pulled out a chair at one of the desks and pointed at Clara to sit down. He took one beside her and turned his body towards her. "You're so young though Clara. Surely you don't want it now?"

Clara shook her head, unsure if it was agreeing with him or in denial. "It's what John wants and what I want and so it's what's best." She hoped that would be enough to keep Tom happy and it seemed it was as he stood back up.

"Whatever you say." Tom shrugged. "You're not going to tell me the truth so there's no point in doing anything."

Clara opened her mouth to protest but Tom raised a finger at her. "I know you're lying, which is fine. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just, don't let yourself get somewhere you don't want to be. Can you promise me that?"

Her heart broke at his genuine concern. He must have thought her husband was pressuring her or something. "Course I can." She smiled, standing up to pull him into a hug. His arms rubbed her back soothingly.

They broke apart when the hug went on a little too long for Clara's liking. Tom was a sweet guy but she had her own partner, as twisted and messed up as that relationship was.

Clara left the school at two every day so she could pick up the Maitland's from their school. Working part-time had it's perks for that, although she would have to look after them until five.

When the kids came out, the rain was coming down in heaps and bounds. She cursed herself for not bringing a coat or an umbrella. Both children had coats but they were wearing school shoes and thin jumpers.

She was going to make a run for it when she noticed a familiar car outside the gates and she grinned to herself, grabbing the children's hands and running towards it.

"Quick, get in!" She shouted to the children who hastily opened the back car door. Clara hopped in the front, throwing her arms around John happily.

"Thank God!" She gasped. "I thought we might drown on the way home!"

John laughed. "I thought you would too." She pulled back and placed a small kiss on his lips to the disgust of Angie and Artie.

Clara smiled and kissed him again before strapping on her seatbelt. "How come you're not at work?" She asked happily.

"I just wanted to see you!" John chirped. Clara raised an eyebrow and he cowered under he stare. "And the boiler may have broken so we were all sent home." He mumbled.

Clara laughed as the car set off. "How about you guys come over to ours for a bit?" John asked the children. "I have lots of sweets and fun stuff and Clara can get a rest."

They looked nervously at each other. "I'll leave a message for your Dad on the desk if he doesn't realise that you're already with us?" Clara offered. They both nodded happily but unsurely.

Clara was relieved to get back to the flat. She collected the post as she walked through the door before walking to the TV to turn it on for the kids and walking to her bedroom to get a rest.

John ran straight to the cupboards and pulled out a massive supply of chocolate and sweets Clara didn't even know they owned. "And where on Earth did those things come from?" She asked sternly.

The kids both giggled and grinned at John. "The shop?" John suggested. Clara tutted and rolled her eyes and John sighed from relief that he wasn't about to be on the receiving end of her shouts. They actually scared him sometimes.

John ran to the sofa and patted the spaces beside him form the children to sit next to him. They ran eagerly, watching the cartoon on TV. Clara peeped around the bedroom door disapprovingly. "Don't eat too many sweets or you won't eat your dinner and then you'll be in trouble!" She warned.

"We won't!" The youngsters chanted at the same time.

"I was talking to all three children!" She laughed. John lifted his hand up, a bar of chocolate in his hand.

"I won't!" He called. Clara giggled before walking to her bed and getting under the covers to rest. She fell asleep as she listened to the sound of the three of them laughing.

__

* * *

 

She was awoken by John shaking her gently. "Hey, wake up." He soothed. He planted a kiss on her forehead as she sat up. "You fell asleep with the letters in your hand." John explained as she saw opened envelopes on the bed.

"Oh, anything interesting?" She asked dully as she yawned. She saw John go silent out of the corner of her eye. "What? What is it?" She asked, her hand immediately cupping his face in concern.

"I just have a mission. I need to seduce this girl. She is secretary to the British ambassador of America. I'm going to be out quite a lot for a while. She cant suspect me so it will be like proper dates and stuff."

Clara nodded as she quickly jumped out of bed. Their voices were quiet and she assumed the kids were still there as she could still hear the TV. "Yeah, of course. Starting tonight yeah?" She asked, rubbing her hand against her forehead.

"Yeah." John muttered. "Anyway, I made the kids dinner. It was proper food too! Sausages and mash with peas!"

Clara turned around, eyebrows raised in an impressed fashion. "Well done mister." She said cheekily. She walked over to him and planted a sneaky kiss on his lips. "I'm feeling proud."

John hummed. "And what are you going to do about that?" He asked seductively, his voice dropping in sound.

"The kids are next door." Clara whispered, shaking her head with small smile on her face.

John faked a shocked expression. "I wasn't implying that at all." He gasped cheekily. "Why would you even think that?" He laughed. "No, I was simply thinking of doing...this."

John attacked Clara's sides as he tickled her and she cried out for mercy. Her laughter was loud as she begged him to stop. He'd recently found out she was ticklish and he loved to tickle her more than anything. One hand went to her neck and screamed out in defeat. "No!" She laughed, trying to push his hands away.

After about two minutes of laughter, she shrugged his hands off her. "Okay, enough, enough." She laughed, grin plastered onto her face.

She leant in and kissed her once more. "Come on." He muttered, his head jerking towards the door as they went out to get the kids.

She was thankful that their eyes were glued onto the television screen with their dinner's in their lap. Everything was eaten except the peas and Clara tutted as she came into view of them. "If you don't eat your peas then you don't get ice cream." She laughed.

Their eyes widened at the word "ice-cream" and from then, it was a competition on who could gobble down the peas the fastest.

They both raised their plates in unison, Angie nudging Artie so she would be first. "Done!" She cried as she ran to the kitchen to catch John pulling the ice cream out of the freezer.

They both queued up at the freezer door and Clara laughed when she saw John's surprise as he turned around he cried out at the children's proximity. He pulled out two bowls and scooped the ice cream out for them as they giddily chatted.

Clara was tired out by the time their father knocked on the door to take them home. At least Artie and Angie were happy, which had made her feel better.

Clara sat down on the couch and closed her eyes slowly, absorbing the sudden blissful silence. She felt the cushions dip as John sat next to her and slowly began to rub her neck. She hummed in approval and moved slightly to get in a position to allow him better access to her neck.

"You're really tense." He murmured into her ear and she nodded, her eyes still closed.

"I'm just shattered all the time." She agreed, leaning her back into him and resting her head on his shoulder.

They remained in a peaceful silence for a couple of minutes as Clara against John as he rubbed her neck.

"I have that first date at eight." He admitted guiltily. Clara pretended like it hadn't made her heart sink for a moment.

"Well it's only five now, so you've got a few hours to prepare." She murmured, eyes opening as she looked away. She moved slightly away from John and began to stand up off the couch.

"You know that's three whole hours to do whatever we want?" John murmured into her ear as he leant forward and caught her arm.

"And what it is that you want?" Clara teased quietly, smiling although she didn't want him to see it.

"We could have another go for a baby, if you want?" He asked slowly. He sounded like he was hesitant to ask after her outburst this morning. Clara took a deep breath as if she were considering his offer although her mind was already made up.

She turned around slowly to see him gazing at her. She twisted her body and lent over him, her lips capturing his in a passionate attack. He responded enthusiastically, grabbing her body and flipping it underneath his, causing Clara to let out a shriek of surprise.

Her body sank into the pillows as she smiled up at him. She wouldn't tell him her true concern with this particular mission because in all honesty, she couldn't understand why she was upset herself. It was a standard mission that she understood well so she couldn't get why it was bothering her that much.

All of her heavy thinking left her head as John's body pressed down to hers.

* * *

 

Later, she lay in bed alone after John left. She was still puzzling out what it was that was annoying her so much about this mission.

When she was with John, Clara felt happy usually. When he kissed her neck or gave her a compliment, she would be filled with an overwhelming feeling inside that she couldn't shake. It was the same feeling she got when she told John to put his clothes in the wash basket or shouted at him for leaving up the toilet seat strangely enough.

She could only think of it as belonging. It was like he was at home with her. She hadn't felt at home in a long time. She'd never really had a solid home but anything she associated with that word died when she was sixteen years old.

She'd never intended to become so attached to John, it had just...happened. Like a wave crashing on the sand, it was inevitable and as much as she tried to stop it, there was no way she could.

There was a reason she didn't get attached. She was a curse. Just to add to that belief, their entire relationship was based on work and duty rather than love. In the end, if they had to, they would put their job first because that's all this marriage was; a job.

Clara thought herself to sleep, still worrying in her head.

John opened the door and heard the heavy silence. The lights were all still on but no-one was in sight. "Clara?" He shouted, looking around for her.

He smiled when he opened the bedroom door and saw her asleep on top of the bed. He took of his shoes, trousers and shirt and lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

She shifted and mumbled as she slightly woke. "Hey there sleepyhead." He teased, kissing her on the nose as her eyes still drooped and fought to stay open.

"What time s'it?" She moaned, curling up into John's chest.

"Midnight. Happy tomorrow." He shut his eyes when he felt Clara's smile in his skin. She tangled her legs with his and gripped onto him.

"Did it go well?" She asked after a minute or two.

"Yeah, she bought it and I have a second date." He smiled. He felt Clara's smile drop a little as she shuffled in his arms once more to find a comfier position. This time her head was facing away from him as she lay on her front. It wasn't fully turning her back and she may have not even done it intentionally, but it was clear she was upset.

John tapped her shoulder after pressing a light kiss to it. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Nothing." She grumbled into the pillow. After a few seconds of shuffling around once more, she lifted the sheets and tucked herself under them. John followed her actions and wrapped his arms around her before she had a chance to turn away from him.

"Now, look at me and tell me the truth." He raised his eyebrows at her and she darted her eyes downwards.

"I said nothing didn't I?" She argued.

"Yes, but I can tell when you lie to me." He said softly. He pulled her chin in for a small kiss, studying her expression when he pulled back. "So tell me the truth."

Clara took a few breaths, deciding on what it really was that was the matter. She couldn't focus on one thing she thought it was. After what seemed like an hour of thinking, she opened her mouth to speak. "I just...I feel...abandoned."

"Abandoned?" John asked in disbelief, unsure of where that emotion had come from.

She nodded slowly and looked away, trying to sink her face back into the pillow once more. "I don't know...I just keep thinking about if I get pregnant and you're...you know, out on dates every night and missions and I'm left here with the baby to clean up after you and it's just made me feel very...abandoned."

John listened to every word Clara said carefully, making sure he didn't miss a beat. His face twisted in concern throughout her speech and he was unsure of how to reply to that. "But Clara, this is our job. This is what we do. We have to do these missions because that's why we're here."

"I know." She whispered. "It just hurts when I think about it."

"Think about what?" John questioned, noticing his tone was getting unintentionally angrier. "How everything in our lives is fake. Everything we do has no meaning because that's what we have been trained to do. There's nothing left to think about Clara."

"Do you really think that?" She whispered. Her voice was thick and John could tell that she might have been crying if she didn't have iron walls that surrounded her emotions.

"I don't think that Clara, it's what it is." He said clearly. "You know that."

Clara looked down as she bowed her head in sorrow. "Yeah, I do." She said blankly. Her walls were back up again and any sign of weakness had gone.

She waited until he fell asleep to wriggle out of his arms and turn away to think. Their marriage had no true meaning behind it. There wasn't any love, not in John's mind anyway. She'd thought that maybe there was. That's why she would carry on playing the part and do her job. That's what they were there to do anyway. They were not meant to get emotionally attached for a reason and Clara now knew that better than anyone.


	8. What Might Kill You

Clara spent the next few weeks being as professional as she could be. John barely noticed her acting different at all. At least, he didn't for a while.

He first got a glimpse of it when he tried to come onto her one night and she pulled away. At first, her reaction had stunned him. He'd asked if there was a problem of that it was just her time of the month. When she'd told him that she just didn't feel up to it, he wasn't entirely sure how to react. She'd not been as cold to him as she was being, for at least six months. He wasn't used to the rejection. He also noticed that her heart was never in it when they slept together. It was almost like she was just going through the motions and pretending for his sake. It wouldn't have been very noticeable if he didn't know her so well.

Whenever they went out on missions, she was efficient and quick in her jobs. It had slightly shocked John when she lost her patience quickly with someone they'd abducted and just shot him in the head. It was extremely unlike her to be so harsh. It had even scared him slightly and he was glad he hadn't been that man in the back, although the way she was acting at the time, he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't have shot him if it was.

Two months after she had started acting differently, he found her sat on the sofa as he got back from work. This wasn't a day she looked after the kids and usually she worked on other things instead, but she was just staring at the wall blankly.

"Are you...okay?" He asked carefully as he walked over to her, keeping a safe distance.

Clara nodded and looked up at him. "Course I am. I always am." She gave him a false smile which he saw right through before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. John eyes followed her slowly as he went to sit down on the sofa.

"Oh, John?" She called blankly, turning around. She pressed a hand to her head as if she'd just forgotten something. He turned around quickly and looked over to her. she diverted her eyes from his casually, as if they'd never made proper eye contact before.

"I'm pregnant." She said simply. She then walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaving John to sit in the living room and think over what she'd just said. He opened and closed his mouth twice as he decided to go to her.

He knocked gently on the door. "Clara?" Clara, can I come in?" He called.

When he heard no reply, he opened the door and found Clara wasn't there. He looked towards the adjoining bathroom and heard water running. His feet moved before he'd told them to and he found himself turning the handle on the door and opening it slowly.

Clara looked towards the door knowing he was coming in. She couldn't think of a way to leave the bathroom without it being clear she was avoiding him as she'd only been in the shower for a few seconds. She waited to hear what he was doing. She heard his trousers hitting the floor and his shirt.

A few moments later, he pulled back the shower curtain and got under the searing water behind Clara. He didn't want to say anything about how the water was burning his skin in case it made her angry. She looked fine under it and so he kept his mouth shut.

She was facing away from him, reaching down to grab some shampoo. When she stood back up, he wrapped his arms around her stomach and kissed her shoulder.

She shivered uncomfortably under his touch as his hands moved to caress her stomach. She allowed them to roam as they wished, ignoring the man behind her. She rubbed shampoo into her hair and he released his arms to allow her to wash it out. She then did her conditioner and washed it out hastily. The moment that was done, she got out of the shower.

"You can have it to yourself now." She smiled at him as she stepped out onto the mat. The way she said it sounded kind, but John knew it was the opposite of that. In that moment, he was grateful for the strong heat so he could focus on that rather than the fact his own wife was barely speaking to him.

She lay asleep that night, arms curled protectively around herself from instinct. He lightly stroked her spine and she mumbled in her sleep but didn't wake up. "I hope you're okay Clara." He whispered to her, his heart suddenly full of something he couldn't explain.

Knowing that the child was his brought out a whole new side to him. It wasn't anything he'd thought he'd get, fatherly feelings. It was the knowledge that he'd have someone who loved him unconditionally in the world that made his heart swell with love. No-one had ever loved him permanently. Everyone in his life had left him at some point. Even Clara, although maybe not physically, detached herself emotionally.

He thought about how their child might look. Clara eye's and his rocket-fin ears with no sense of where their hands should go but the kindness of their mum.

Like it once had Clara, the thought that there children would be British haunted him. He wouldn't be able to tell them anything of his own childhood or sing them any of his favourite nursery rhymes. Everything they did with them would be built on a fake relationship. They would have to lie to them as they would never be allowed to know what their parents really were. If they ever did find out, they'd probably resent him.

* * *

 

Clara woke the next morning to find John had already woken. She was grateful it was the weekend as everything would finally calm down. She'd barely had time to think about being pregnant at all. She'd informed their boss the night before, who had given her their congratulations, even though she knew they were just happy their plan was finally in action.

She walked into the living room and saw John sitting on the sofa watching TV. She sat down beside him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She found that an action to be seen as affectionate which she could get away with.

John didn't turn to look at her like he usually did. This time, he stayed staring at the TV.

They stayed in silence for the entire morning, sat on the couch beside each other. The only sound was the television.

At twelve, John stood up abruptly. "Lunch?" He asked to Clara.

"Yes please." She whispered. She wasn't used to his abruptness, although she was aware that he was very well acquainted with hers. He didn't face her at all and it made her feel rejected.

Just as he begun to move, Clara stood too. "What's wrong John?" She mumbled. He froze in his movements before slowly turning to face Clara. He took a few steps towards her, until their bodies were practically up against each other, and looked down.

"What's wrong?" He mocked. "Nothing." He said loudly. "Nothing at all. I'm completely fine. It's not like I've been ignoring you for thatlong is it? I'm sorry if I have. Is two months too much time for you?"

"John, I know that's it's..." Clara started, realising what he was getting at.

"It's not like I run away from my significant other when I tell them something important in life. I can't see what could possibly be wrong with me at all. I don't give someone silent treatment for no reason either. You know, all these traits remind me of a certain little someone who..."

"Oh, shut up John before you say something you think is clever that you actually don't understand!" Clara shouted at him, losing her temper.

"Oh, are you saying that I don't understand anything?" He shouted back.

"You think you know it all, when in reality you don't. You know nothing!" She retorted.

Pent up anger was a scary thing. It only took one small thing for it to be released in floodwaves and Clara knew that if she didn't shut up now, she'd say something she couldn't take back.

"It's not like you know anything about how to treat your husband!" He snarled, clenching his jaw in anger.

"It's not like you actually know how to love anyone!" She shrieked breaths were heavy and her face was screwed up.

Her words sliced John like a knife and he stilled, even more fury growing inside of him. "That's because I'm not fucked up in my head and have a need to be loved by someone, unlike you." He spat.

Clara allowed the silence to hit her for a moment before she began to shout again."You know, at least when this fucking baby comes I will have someone who will love me. You're just a lonely sad twat who has to accept the fact that not even his own child will love him."

John immediately regretted walking towards Clara because he was directly shouting in her face. He could feel the words coming out of his mouth before he'd even thought over them. "At least I wasn't weak enough to be raped by my own superiors." He spat the work "weak" into her face and she flinched from the harshness of it.

Clara froze, anger boiling over her face. John had known he'd crossed a line that he might not ever get back over. "At least I've never tried to sell out my own country." She spat, desperate to make him hurt like he had just her. "You have no loyalty to the motherland! You would sell us out to England if you could. So why don't you?" She began to shout at the top of her lungs, screaming half of her words. "John Smith is a fucking KGB agent who has killed half of the bloody British government. He gets a real kick out of it! You should see his bloody face when he beats someone to death! He enjoys it because he hates everyone. His own parents even hated him! He has no-one who loves him, no-one in the entire fucking world who gives one tiny shit about..."

Clara was cut off by John's fist colliding with her face and she fell backwards, stumbling back against the sofa and down to the floor. The pain immediately flared up and she felt a sharp sting remain. She could still feel his fist dented into her face. Clara looked slowly down to the floor, breathing hard as she lightly touched her eye.

She knew that her eyebrow has split from the impact and her vision was slightly blurry. She was suspended in a moment of time. Her brain was on overload, millions of things going through her head at once but she just froze, unsure of what was next. She could hear John's breaths, heavy as he stayed staring at her tiny frame that was now seeming smaller than ever.

He couldn't move himself. He wasn't certain on what there was he could do. This was the crushing point in their relationship, if it could even be called that.

After a few moments, Clara stood up steadily and walked away from him, step by step. Her vision was still blurry as her eyes stayed trained on the floor, and she felt sick, but she needed to leave the apartment. She grabbed her coat and bag when she reached the door and ran out of the flat as quickly as she could.

When she stood outside, she was greeted with a concerned George Maitland running down the stairs of the building hurriedly. "Clara are you okay?" He asked, running over to her. He was clearly in a panicked concern as he ran over to could see her eye was red and already beginning to bruise, and the cut on her eyebrow showed clear as daylight. "I heard people shrieking at each other so I came down to check nothing had happened." He rushed, knowing the answer to that already.

Clara stalled before she managed to find her voice in her haste. "Yeah, I...I'm fine." She lied as convincingly as she could, which wasn't anywhere near as good as it should have been. "Just a small fight, s'all."

George began to look furious as he took another step towards Clara. "Then how come you look like you've just been punched in the face?" He said as calmly as he could. His anger was clearly directed towards John. Clara was so small and innocent and John was strong and tall. It wouldn't have taken much for John to do this.

Clara shrugged her shoulders and let off a fake chuckle. "Me and John had been shouting and I thought I'd clear my head. I walked into an open cupboard when I was looking for my keys. We're always arguing about him leaving them open and it made me even angrier." She smiled at him once more but nothing she'd said seemed to ease his concerned expression.

"Clara, you should call the police." George began. "This should be..."

"You know I've really got to go. Thanks for your concern but it's all fine. Bye!" She said quickly, running out of the building and into her car before George had time to say another word.

* * *

 

She arrived back several hours later. As she parked her car, she noticed the police car sitting outside the apartment block. Her first thought was that they'd been caught. She must have been overheard earlier. She ran inside the building and walked into the open apartment quickly.

John was sat on the sofa with two policemen next to him and one other policeman was at the door.

"Clara!" He cried, causing the policemen to turn.

"What's going on?" She said as casually as she could. The police all looked to each other and then back to her in confusion.

"We had a report of domestic abuse at this address. Miss Oswald, please can you tell me what happened here at around noon today?" A police woman who Clara hadn't noticed in the corner of the room said. She walked up to Clara and stroked her shoulder sympathetically.

Clara looked to John to see him rolling his eyes. She smiled at him as if it were all some big joke. "I had a fight with my husband. He's always leaving the bloody cupboard doors open and then, coincidentally as I was finding my keys, I walked into one. For him, it hits his shoulder but I'm at eye level!"

She tried to make it sound like she was saying it in disbelief . The woman next to her stroked her arm once more. "Would you like to come into the other room with me for a more private conversation?" She asked sweetly.

"Hang on, do you think he hit me?" Clara asked as if it was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. "He would never hit me!" She argued. "He's really kind. Helps me look after the Maitland kids on floor three. They will tell you how nice he is. Besides, I'm pregnant! Why would he hit me?"

"Mr Maitland reported it when he saw you earlier." John moaned from the sofa, glancing up at her. "Oh and most situations where a husband hits his wife starts when a pregnancy is involved. So that just makes them more suspicious." John looked like he was bored and finding the whole thing amusing. Clara knew that they needed the police out of their house as soon as possible or their superiors would be after them again with punishments.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, for goodness sake, he's just being overprotective. I don't really blame him. He heard me shouting and then saw my swollen eye. This is all one massive misunderstanding." She laughed, smiling to the serious policewoman.

Everyone looked at the couple who seemed perfectly happy around each other. John stood up to walk over to her and the man beside his set a hand on his chest. "Can I just talk to her?" He asked, sounding exasperated.

They finally nodded their head after a silent discussion between them and John walked towards Clara. "Sorry about the cupboard." He winced as he approached her, his fingers coming up to gently caress the massive bruise on her face.

"Sorry you have the police thinking you're some wife abuser." She replied and they both shared a laugh. They knew how to play the game and make it look like they were fine.

"I swear to tape the cupboards shut so this never happens again." He smiled.

Clara almost wanted to believe this fake story. "You better do mister." She smiled. She leant forward and quickly kissed him, then wrapping her arms around him in a massive hug.

The police soon decided that there was no real threat in their household. They wrote down their statements and filed them in case anything like this were to come up again, before bidding the "happy couple" goodnight.

Once they had been gone long enough, Clara walked to the bedroom and pulled a duvet out of the cupboard. She walked back into the living room and laid it out on the sofa, grabbing a cushion and putting it beneath her head space. Then she took of her shoes and coat before climbing under the covers and closing her eyes.

John watched slowly from the kitchen, understanding her message. He walked to the bedroom and shut the door. He didn't sleep that night, his mind relaying that moment in his head. He had always been taught to take out his anger on the enemy. It was unfortunate that in that moment, in his eyes, Clara had been just that. The thought of hitting her repulsed him, but he had done that. He'd hurt her with his words and with his fists and that was unforgiveable.

Clara wasn't at all surprised to wake up to a letter from their superiors to go in to the headquarters as soon as possible. Inside, she was nervous. If they believed their assignment to be blow, the two of them would be shot. She showed the letter to John, not uttering a word to him at the same time. They barely exchanged glances at all during the morning and they stayed as far apart as they could.

They both dressed up, put on wigs and glasses to disguise themselves so that they would not be seen going into the Russian embassy. Clara painted over her bruise so it wasn't too noticeable, even though it was even worse now.

When they arrived, Clara was instantly grabbed by the arm and dragged into their director's office. She was to speak to Svetlana Brokovich, the head of this mission.

She looked over to John who was waiting outside before he was to be taken to another part of the building. She wasn't blind to what they were about to do. He had put them in a potentially dangerous situation and there would have to be consequences for that.

Clara sat down in the chair at the other side of the desk from her superior. She removed her wig and glasses, the waited patiently. "Tea?" The woman asked. Clara shook her head and waited silently as Svetlana poured her own. She sat down and read some paperwork.

After she took two sips, she faced Clara. "What the hell were the two of you thinking yesterday? The police were at your apartment for a spousal abuse call. Why did you call the police?" She snapped in her strong Russian accent. "Contact us when this happens."

"I didn't." Clara snapped back angrily, annoyed at the accusations she was making. "A neighbour did and I think you'll know that the police don't believe anything happened there."

"Except there's now a police record on your name." She grumbled back, standing up and walking over to Clara. She lightly stroked Clara's smooth hair before outlining the massive discolouration on her eye. Clara made sure not to so much as wince when she pressed her fingers onto it. Showing pain was a weakness and she wasn't supposed to have any.

"Does it hurt?" Svetlana asked observantly, pressing her fingers down once more.

"No." Clara said plainly, making sure her eyes didn't betray her.

She pressed even harder this time and Clara made sure not to show any pain. "Don't lie to me, I know it hurts. This isn't a damn test so cut the crap Kurotkov." Svetlana snapped.

Clara flinched when she heard her surname and turned her head to her boss. "Yes, it fucking hurts." She spat. "He has a strong fucking punch, so it fucking hurts!" She shouted, turning to face Svetlana.

"You pick up way too many British idioms." Svetlana said in Russian, becoming casual. She leant back onto her desk in a more friendly manner.

Clara looked down and closed her eyes. "Sorry." She replied. Their conversation was no longer in English. It felt strange, Russian, coming off Clara's tongue. She hadn't spoken it in proper conversation for so long.

"Don't be sorry. Dolzhi- John is taking his punishment now for his actions." Svetlana muttered. "I'm sorry that he lost his control. That can't have been nice for you."

Clara looked around, not showing the hurt in her eyes. "Won't that just affect our mission more?" She asked sternly, hoping that would get John out of less trouble.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." Svetlana assured. "Now, you have some paperwork to fill in about the incident. It needs to go on file so that all stories match up." She returned to English and the switch made Clara's ears jump.

"Okay." Clara replied uneasily, standing up and shaking Svetlana's hand before leaving the room slowly. She was taken to another area of the offices to finish off this mess.

* * *

 

Clara waited another hour for John to return to the lobby. He looked pained but if he was hurting, he didn't say anything. They didn't say a word to each other as hey put on their wigs and clothes before leaving calmly.

They arrived home later, walking silently into their apartment. They both walked into the bedroom and lay down silently. It was only two in the afternoon but they were both shattered. Clara turned to face away from John as he lay down on his back. She tried to ignore the fact that he winced and his breathing was ragged but she couldn't.

She turned back to face him and he looked towards her in confusion. "Turn over." She said strictly.

John slowly followed her instructions to lie on his front. Clara lifted up the shirt he was wearing to see several lacerations on his back. They weren't enough to hurt him permanently but they were enough to put him in pain. These were the punishments for failing assignments usually. They used serrated blades to cut slowly in and out of the skin.

"Oh for God's sake." She muttered under her breath before running to the bathroom and pulling out her first kid. She found the anti bacterial wipes and the bandages quickly and then ran back into the bedroom.

"I bet they didn't even sterilise the bloody knife. They never do." She mumbled. She pulled the wipe from it's packet and held it firmly in her hand. "This will sting."

She then wiped each of his wounds to stop any infection. He cried out at first before gritting his teeth. She mumbled a few apologies under breath but he didn't hear them.

She picked up the bandages before putting them back down. "It'll be better if they get access to air. Don't wear your pyjama shirt or them fibres will be caught in the wound. You can lie on me right now if it helps."

Clara lay back down and rested under the warm covers. John hesitantly put his head on her chest so he was mostly on his front. Clara stayed still as he lay there. In all honesty, the punch hadn't bothered her. She could cope with the small bruising. It was the fact he'd brought up a subject that she was ashamed to even think about. There was no way she could tell the Russian's that as they would all laugh at her. She'd thought John was better than the rest. She'd though he actually respected her, which was not the case at all. He saw her as all the rest did; weak and vulnerable. The thought plagued her as she drifted off into a deep sleep.

"I'm sorry." John whispered later, when he thought she was sleeping. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm so, so sorry." He then moved away to allow her some space, knowing that she wouldn't want him near her.

Clara didn't respond to him in anyway, even though she was actually awake. She didn't know how to. She hadn't forgiven him yet for what he done or what he'd said. She wasn't sure if she could ever forgive him. He'd crossed too many lines to get back from.


	9. Pushing You Away

When two people in a marriage barely talk, things often get difficult extremely quickly.

It's hard not to drive each other insane when you won't tell the other person what you're wanting or trying to do. As much as they tried to not show it, John and Clara's relationship was slowly hurtling towards a black hole.

John tried to be as nice to her as he could be, getting her things when she needed them and making dinner for her. He didn't want to say anything in fear of making her mad.

On the Monday after the incident, Clara had wanted to curl up in a ball and die. She wasn't oblivious to the gasps in the corridors as she walked past students and they saw her bruised eye. She also was aware of the talk in the staffroom when she went to eat her lunch.

Upon retreating to the classroom to avid the chatter, Clara had bumped into Tom. He was probably the most concerned out of everyone but he was trying his hardest not to show it. He was being friendly and helpful but he wasn't pushing her to speak, which was exactly what Clara needed.

She sat with him at lunchtime and they spoke about random things. She enjoyed having Tom around. He was like an older brother to her and he genuinely cared about her , which was nice for someone who had no family nearby that she could turn to.

"So, Clara what happened?" Tom finally choked. It was the last lesson of the day and they both had a free. Clara was sat in a chair marking some papers for Tom as he sat beside her at his desk.

"It really doesn't matter." Clara muttered, turning her attention back to the assessments at hand. She could feel Tom's eyes burning holes into the side of her head and it didn't take her long to snap her head up back to him. "It doesn't." She insisted, silently pleading him to drop the topic of conversation.

"It does. Is everything alright? You know, back home?" He asked quietly, taking one of her hands in his and holding it gently.

Clara sighed and shut her eyes briefly. "It's just a bit stressful. John's really exhausted all the time so we're fighting a lot."

Tom shook his head violently in horror. "So, he just hit you? I'm sorry Clara but that's what this looks like."

Clara yanked her hand out of Tom's grip violently and shot him an angry glare. "He didn't hit me." She said as calmly as she could. She hated when it was implied that she was weak. "I'd never let him do that, I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't." Tom said defensively, raising his arms slowly. "But that doesn't mean he didn't hurt you."

Clara realised she had snapped a little too angrily and muttered a small apology under her breath, unwilling to see Tom's reaction. He was far too kind to her when she didn't deserve it.

"He didn't hit me, I...I just walked into a cupboard but we were fighting at the time." She mumbled, shaking her head in small laughter. "It doesn't sound too good, I know."

Clara waited for Tom to say something, but he remained silent as he took her hand in his again. It was a kind gesture that she actually appreciated a lot. Tom was the friend she'd never realised she'd needed. He was someone she actually open up to. She often found herself cursing him for that quality as too much came out of her mouth.

"He's probably just stressed about the ba..." She choked off her word and pretend to cough, tearing her eyes as far away as she could from Tom's.

"Clara?" He asked gently, standing up to lean over and pat her on the back as she finished off her mild coughing fit. "Are you pregnant?" Hid voice was gently and soft but it only made Clara feel worse.

She nodded simply, not willing to see Tom's reaction. She could imagine it would be one of shock. He was always making comments about how lever she was for someone so young. He would almost definitely not approve of her being pregnant. It made her feel guilty before she remembered that it hadn't exactly been her idea and she didn't really have a choice in the situation.

"Oh, That's...I mean, congratulations." Tom stuttered. Clara turned back to face him, wincing at his startled expression.

"Sorry." She whispered. She saw Tom's expression turn from one of shock to confusion. In an instant, he had pulled Clara into a hug which she very much needed.

"Why are you sorry?" he murmured. "I'm happy for you. I was just a little shocked." She could hear the words he was holding back from her. Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Is John going to be a good father? Does he want this? Do you want this?

What does this mean for your future?

"I know it's sudden." She began, leaning back to look into Tom's eyes. If only she could tell him the whole truth so he would understand. She wished that everything in her life wasn't so complicated. "But, we really want this. It'll be good for us."

Tom nodded and smiled. "Well, tell me all then." He chuckled, trying not to show his hurt. "Boy or girl, how far along and the like?"

Clara looked down to her feet nervously. "Umm, not sure and not sure? About eight or nine weeks I'd say and I have no idea about the gender."

Clara looked down to her stomach which still looked flat, although Clara could swear there was a slight curve to her belly. She looked back up at Tom and smiled warmly. Maybe friendship was the main thing she needed after all.

* * *

 

Clara was asleep on the bed when John returned home. He'd been at another date, arriving home quite late.

She was laid out on her side on the edge of the bed as she slept calmly. John stood in the doorway for a few minutes and admired the way her shoulders rose and fell with each new intake of breath. He loved how peaceful she was when she slept. He loved the way her hair fell across her face and dangled beneath her like a blanket of petals.

He couldn't help but imagine if their child would have her hair too, blowing around in the wind as they ran in the playground.

Of course he was excited for their child, any man would be. He knew it wasn't exactly what Clara had planned in her life but as much as she would try and deny it, she was happy too.

After a few minutes of watching Clara's sleeping form, John stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bed on his side. His body was facing Clara and he inched up behind her slowly.

Brushing a few stray strands out of her face, John placed a small kiss to Clara's temple and one to her shoulder. "Goodnight Clara." He whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down her shoulder smoothly.

Her pyjama top had slightly rode down on one side, leaving her shoulder bare and he marvelled at how gently her skin was beneath his soft touch.

He barely noticed the small hum Clara gave under her breath as his fingers trailed patterns up and down her revealed skin.

"John?" She gently mumbled, eyes still shut tight. He flinched at the sudden sound and moved his body a respectable distance away.

"Yeah?" He replied softly, staring intently at her small body. He thought she might have been sleep talking as the silence hung over them for a few moments.

"You're back." Clara mumbled, rolling her body over and moving to rest her head on John's chest. Her eyes were still closed tight and John suspected that she was probably doing it sub-consciously and would regret it in the morning, but in this moment he didn't care. He pulled Clara's body to his and hugged her to him, planting a small kiss on her forehead.

She hummed once more and then mumbled something which resembled "I love you" but John couldn't quite make it out. He could tell by her breathing pattern that she was then, once again, sleeping. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feel of her warm body curled up with his.

He didn't care if she'd hate him in the morning, as long as she still gave him these small moments where he could express his love for her and the baby. He'd always said it was the small things that counted and he could only pray that these were the things that would make their relationship better.

* * *

 

Clara woke up the next morning, immediately feeling John's breath on her head. She tried to push away his lanky body but he was gripping onto her too tightly.

She mumbled in protest, trying to remember how they had ended up in that position. She vaguely recalled John getting into the bed but she must have been way out of it by then.

"John?" She hissed, trying to push him away once again. "John?" She said a bit more loudly, causing him to stir and slowly open his eyes.

"Hmm?" He asked weakly, still trying to pull himself out of his unconsciousness.

"You're crushing me. Let me up." Clara snapped, pushing his body away once more. The force of her words woke John up fully and he quickly retracted his arms from her so she could move out of the bed. He could tell that she wanted to be far away from him as she ran out of the bed and threw on her dressing gown and left the room.

The sharp pain of rejection hung in his chest as he slowly pulled himself out of bed and threw on some clothes that would look somewhat decent. He wished that it was a Saturday so he wouldn't have to work. As John put on his shirt, he examined the marks on his back in the mirror. They had begun to fade and scab after Clara had treated them and he barely felt pain from them anymore.

It was moments of rejection like these which made his wish he could, so he could remember why she was pushing him away so much.

He stumbled into the kitchen to see Clara making two omelettes. He carefully walked up behind her and cleared his throat to signal he was there. She didn't move but he could tell she'd acknowledged his presence.

"You should really go for a scan." John said slowly, unsure of what Clara's reaction would be. "You must be at least 12 weeks by now."

Clara didn't reply as she scraped the omelettes onto two plates and handed one to John. "Yeah, I guess." She finally muttered, focusing on the food on her plate.

John ate quietly, glancing up at Clara every few seconds to check on her. She gave a small smile the fifth time as she finished off her food.

They were silent as John left the house and went to work. There were so many things he knew he should say to her, but he wasn't sure how. She wasn't working that day, he knew, and he wished he could take the day off work to spend it with her. Unfortunately, his work was what was making her be married to him and it wouldn't help either of them if he called in sick.

* * *

 

He closed the door and was surprised to see Clara sitting on the sofa. She was usually in the bedroom so she would be able to avoid him for the evening. He put his things down by the door and made his way over to the couch to sit beside her.

Clara waited as long as she could, weighing the distance between them, before she spoke. "I did what you said and went for a scan today. Thought you'd want to know."

Her voice was so dull and plain but her words made John feel an anger he honestly hadn't expected. "You went without me?" He sounded offended and Clara made sure to turn her head from him as she stood off the sofa.

"I called them up and they had a spare appointment for today. Thought it would be quicker if I just went. Besides, it doesn't really matter too much anyway." Clara reached onto the coffee table for her bag, rummaging through it's contents slowly.

John sat still in confusion and waited for Clara to speak once more. He had the feeling that any words to come out of his mouth would only worsen the situation.

"Here." Clara flashed John four wallet sized pictures of the scan. He barely had time to look at them before Clara pulled some scissors out of her bag and cut one out for him. "Thought you might get mad if I threw them all away before you saw them. It's a girl."

John nodded slowly, taking the picture. He felt his heart drop slightly when Clara threw the rest in a small bin in the corner of the room. "Don't you...Don't you want a picture of the baby?" John asked quietly, shrinking into a ball an hoping she hadn't heard.

"No." Clara muttered. "It's just a stupid picture on a screen, means nothing to me."

He knew she was lying, no matter how convincing that lie was. There was no way she felt nothing for the child inside her. Clara, as much as she pretended not to be, was a genuine and caring person and loved kids. He could see it in the way she looked after the Maitland's. It just stung that she insisted on putting on this mask around him.

* * *

 

There were certain things that John could deal with in life and there were times when he absolutely drew the line.

This was one of them.

They'd been assigned a mission that could be very dangerous. Four rogue Russian agents, who were selling secrets to America, had hired out a warehouse opposite the Russian embassy. From there they were using radio signals to listen into conversations.

Luckily for the Russians, they'd spotted the bug and had been staging conversations for them for the last week.

Now they were sending in a force of six to destroy the threat at all costs possible. They had no idea how long the bug had been transmitting for and vital information, such as whereabouts of agents and identities of double-agents, had been discussed in that room very recently.

Clara and John were to keep watch as the other four killed the men in the warehouse. They knew that they would be armed and if the other four should fail, John knew that they would have to go in to finish the job.

At nineteen weeks pregnant, Clara's bump was rather visible. The people in charge said that it could be used to their advantage as no-one would suspect a pregnant woman to be part of an attack squad for this mission.

John was still having doubts as they stood across the street from the warehouse and waited for their signal. He kept reflecting on the many arguments he'd had with Clara over this.

"John, it'll be fine. We've been in more dangerous situations be..."

"I don't care, this time it's different!"

"Stop getting so over-protective, it doesn't suit you."

"Stop being so stubborn to your child's needs. Your daughter should come first."

"It's our job, whether we like it or not."

Clara was stood near the warehouse, nodding to the other four men as they received their signal to start firing. She stood by as they slowly broke in, guns waiting. John crossed the road quickly so he could hear the fight. Although they would be using silencers, they should still be able to hear if anyone was shot down. It was only a few seconds before the gun fight began.

The first few shots came quickly, followed by a rush of more and more. The noises must have lasted but two minutes before Clara and John got the all clear signal. John heaved a sigh of relief and looked guiltily towards Clara. It seemed it had been a pointless mission after all.

Clara gave John a look of "I told you so" as they walked towards the warehouse. They hadn't even had to get involved and it annoyed Clara that he'd made such a fuss about it. She would make sure to get at him later for it as he'd already caused her enough grief over this particular issue.

"Everyone alright?" Clara shouted from the entrance, receiving a thumbs up from two of her men. She ran inside with John at that and met the leader of the group halfway.

"They weren't expecting it. Barely got any shots fired before we took them all. Stan is just checking the bodies." A tall man said, looking down at Clara. He pointed to a man walking around towards the bodies.

Stan walked up to each body and kicked their heads to check they were dead. He couldn't understand why they gave up so easily. John was going over mission details as he walked over to the last body.

"It doesn't make much sense." John complained to himself. "They were trained by the KGB. They should have put up more of a fight."

"Stop moaning John." Clara complained, turning her attention back to the other man.

The last stiff had ran into the corner when the first shot was fired. He had been the hardest man to shoot as he'd hid behind some boxes, but they'd hit him in the end.

Stan noticed something wasn't right as he approached the stacks of cardboard boxes. He could feel it in his bones. The man had been doing something in that corner, although he hadn't seen what. Everyone else was oblivious as he leant over the boxes and watched the timer start to tick down. It was strapped to ten boxes of C4, waiting to go off. He turned back to face the men, his heart rate speeding up as he read the twenty seconds begin to speed up.

"Bomb!" He shouted suddenly, snapping everyone's attention towards him. "Retreat!"

He began to run towards the exit, signalling for the rest to do so too. John grabbed Clara's hand upon instinct and pulled on it as the six agents ran as fast as they could. John knew he had to get Clara out of there and he sprinted hastily.

The ticks became audible as the ten second mark started counting down. The wind blew past Clara's face as she raced towards the streets outside. At one point she felt John's hand fall away from hers, but she carried on running.

Although the ticks were getting further away, they seemed to grow louder and louder in Clara's head.

They ended with several loud beeps before a drowning noise filled the air and Clara felt her body leave the ground.

She could see nothing.

She could hear nothing.

She could feel nothing.

Everything was black.


	10. To Deserve You

A loud ringing ran through Clara's ears and drowned out any thoughts she could process.

There was a deathly silence accompanied with the ringing that shook Clara's fear to the core. Slowly she began to register the pain that filled her entire body.

She was lying on her back, she knew that much. As she slowly opened her eyes, she saw dust and rubble in the air. She thought she could hear sirens in the distance but she couldn't be certain.

Coughing violently to get the ash out of her lungs, Clara started to feel like her stomach was shattering apart. She slowly tried to sit up, using all of her strength to support her upper body.

Halfway into a sitting position, Clara fell back onto one arm from the extreme agony that came with moving. She looked down to her stomach and tried to control her thinking.

A piece of metal from the warehouse walls had sliced through her stomach and was protruding, holding the major bleeding in. She trailed her fingers down her stomach to the wound and screamed out when she pressed lightly on the skin around it.

She could feel the hot, sticky blood stick to her hands as it began to rush out of the edges of the cut.

The ringing sound overtook Clara's head once more and she fell back, clutching her skull in pain.

"Clara!" The loud cry was too distant for Clara to focus on. Her mind was going blissfully tired and she felt the blackness consume her once again.

John screamed Clara's name once more. He hadn't realised when he'd let go of her hand but it had been at some point. She had to be okay, he had to find her.

He could see faint images through the clearing mist. A loud ring from the explosion resonated in his ear drums but he tried his hardest to focus on the sound of the nearing ambulances. He ran through the rubble towards the street, hoping Clara would have gone in that direction too.

"Clara?" He cried once more, praying that he would hear a reply. A soft whimper sounded somewhere nearby and John focused his eyes until he saw the outline of a body lying in the dirt.

He ran a few metres, his eyes clearing up to identify Clara's frail body. "Clara." He cried once more, running to sit by her side.

The sirens of the ambulance had stopped now and he could hear nearby shouts for survivors. John looked down to Clara, collapsed on the cold, hard floor. His eyes settled on the metal sticking, sharp, out of her stomach.

"Over here!" He screamed as loud as his lungs would allow him to. "Please, someone? Oh God, over here!"

John focused his attention back to Clara, brushing the dirt off her face. "Clara, please. Come on Clara." He pleaded, grabbing her wrist and squeezing it tight.

"Out of the way!" Three paramedics pushed John to the side from behind as they sat down beside Clara. "Do you know her? What's her name love?" The female paramedic opposite John asked.

"Errm," John struggled to think for a moment, "She's called Clara. She's my wife and, God, she's nineteen weeks pregnant." He was barely able to choke out his sentences as he watched Clara squeeze her eyes tighter than before in obvious pain.

He saw the two other paramedics give each other a look, which he knew all too well. They pulled out an oxygen mask and wrapped it around her head carefully, checking her pulse.

"Clara?" The woman said loudly. "Clara, can you hear me?"

Clara shifted and moaned in pain. She tried to say something but it came out in small grunts and whimpers.

"She's got a clear head trauma. Get her back to A and E right now." The woman demanded, raising her arm to signal for a stretcher. They carefully shifted Clara onto it and rushed her into the ambulance, John following behind. He pushed past the other ambulance as they tried to insist her be checked out, never letting Clara leave his sight.

He jumped into the ambulance with her, gripping her hand as the paramedics tried to keep her stable. "Please Clara. Please, survive."

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The consistent beeps brought Clara out of the blackness. Her body felt stiff as she fought against her brain to open her eyes.

Upon looking up, she didn't recognise her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a massive bang and lying in the dust. It then hit her that she was in a hospital. The beeps were from the monitor that measure her heart rate.

She took a few sharp breaths, trying to recall what had happened before she'd arrived there. She could only remember John saying her name, again and again.

There was something important that she'd forgotten. She couldn't think what it was but something had happened and she was scared about it.

Her body felt like it had been asleep for years, each muscle aching as she tried to move. Her arms wouldn't support her as she tried to sit up and she stayed lying hopelessly in the bed.

"John?" She whimpered, hoping someone would hear her.

A loud crash sounded from the corner of the room and she felt two strong arms suddenly wrap around her.

"Oh God. Oh my God, Clara. You're okay, Clara, you're...Thank God. Thank God, thank God." He murmured, repeating his words into Clara's shoulder as he gripped tightly.

"John?" Clara whispered, her voice hoarse and strained. "Wh..What's going on?"

John pull his body back from Clara's and sat, perched on the edge of the hospital bed. He opened his mouth to say something, unsure of how to form a sentence anymore.

In that moment, two men, who had seen Clara wake, ran to her bedside to check her vitals. "Clara, I'm Doctor Wray." A young man said slowly. "Can you tell me your full name please?"

Clara looked for John, who had suddenly moved out of the way. "Umm, Clara Smith." Clara murmured, her brain going foggy for a moment.

"And can you tell me what the last thing you remember is before waking up?"

Clara scanned her brain as hard as she could for the most recent memories. "I..." She began, trying to recall as near to the time as she could. "There was a bang, an explosion. I was lying on the ground."

"Good." Doctor Wray said slowly, pulling a light out of his front pocket. "A lot of the time, people don't remember the incident. Now, could you stare at my finger please."

He held his finger in front of Clara's face, moving his light from one eye to the other. Clara struggled to keep her eyes fixed on one spot, as hard as she tried.

"She has concussion, but it should be okay." Doctor Wray said to the other man in the room. He nodded and scribbled it down on a piece of paper before leaving the room.

"John?" Clara asked quickly, his hand immediately finding hers once more. "John, what's happened?"

She'd only just had chance to see the sore edges to his eyes as if he had been crying for days, and the dark shadows at the top of his cheeks from sleep deprivation.

He audibly swallowed and looked away from Clara. His hand squeezed hers tighter even so as he worked up the courage to say what had to be said.

"John, I'm fine." Clara reassured slowly. "The Doctor's just said I should be okay. Me and the..." Clara cut off her words mid-sentence upon realising what the major thing she'd forgotten was.

"You received trauma to the base of your skull, but it was only slight bruising." John choked, voice catching in his throat. "And...you...a shard of metal sliced through your abdomen. It should have torn through some organs, but they were shielded by the..."

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't even look Clara in the eye as she realised what he was trying to say. He wasn't sure what he was expecting her to do, but what she did had definitely not been that.

"I get it." She said plainly, staring up at the ceiling. "She's dead, isn't she? The baby?"

John remained still, his gaze fixed on the floor as he tried to see if his head would nod.

Clara took a long, steady breath as she focused on the specks of dust floating around her. There were so many things that needed to be said, but they allowed themselves to be absorbed into the sound of nothingness.

"You've been comatose for twelve hours." John murmured. "You have some pills to help your stitches heal properly." He knew he hadn't been gentle with his words, but he couldn't honestly think of any other way to say them.

"How many stitches do I have?" Clara asked, mainly concentrating on blocking out all emotion. It was the only thing she knew how to do.

"Six." John whispered, finally turning to face Clara. She kept her eyes staring at the ceiling as John rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"You should get yourself checked out." Clara murmured. "You look like you have a few nasty scars."

John shook his head. "They're fine. I'd rather stay here with you." As much as he hoped it would do something, no amount of comfort would be able to mend Clara's soul. Not anymore.

* * *

* * *

 

The first month was like a death sentence to all around. Clara had insisted on going back to work as soon as she possible could, to be sent home immediately by Tom who told her boss that she wasn't fir for work. They'd all read about what had happened in the papers. It had been called an act of terrorism by the press, unsure of who was behind it.

The Russians hadn't been blamed as it was directly behind their embassy and even the British weren't stupid enough to believe they'd do that to themselves, although the Americans had denied any involvement with the attack.

John had tried to make sure their lives went back to normal, but now things were even worse between them. If they'd been living a cold war before, they were definitely living one now.

Most of the time, John slept on the couch as he wanted to give Clara some space. He knew that she must be feeling awful, even if she acted fine on the outside.

The truth was, Clara wasn't feeling anything at all. She had closed off emotionally and mentally. She was on standby-mode, praying to switch off some time soon.

She knew that, if only for one tiny second, she allowed herself to actually think about what had happened, she would self destruct and leave nothing left to recover. So, in Clara's head everything was normal again. Of course, at work people were being extra careful around her. Only Tom had known she was pregnant but it had been reported in the news and there weren't too many Clara Smith's that happened to be in the same explosion, just running around.

Tom tried his best to avoid the subject at all costs. The kids had seen Clara's many scars from the explosion, but none of them had dared to bring it up, even the worst kids.

She had carried on working hard, hoping that she'd soon be able to start her teacher training. She wasn't aware that those around her were more concerned than ever. John's eyes were constantly red from tears, as much as he tried to hide that from her. He wasn't a man that let anyone see him cry and Clara tried not to let it break her more that this was destroying him just as much inside as her too.

At first, the Russians had been sympathetic and not sent Clara on any missions, although they were annoyed that Clara was no longer pregnant. They'd sent their gratitude for handling the press situation well and just saying that they'd been out for a walk when the explosion happened.

John had spent an entire week in anger after he was called into the main offices. It had been less than three weeks since Clara had lost her baby and they'd had the nerve to call him in and insist that she get pregnant again as soon as possible. He'd wanted to rip every nerve out of the body of whoever's idea it was. It was clearly someone who had no idea what they were talking about.

He hadn't repeated any of that to Clara at all, still angry at the simple thought someone could be so uncaring.

It had been two months to the day since the explosion and Tom could tell Clara was agitated. She had been trying to busy herself with random rubbish all day and not being able to keep still.

After half an hour of Clara opening and shutting random doors in his classroom, Tom mad his decision.

"Clara, go home." He said bluntly, causing Clara to look up suddenly.

"I only have twenty minutes left before I officially sign off for the weekend." Clara said simply, flashing a small smile at Tom as if nothing were the matter.

"And I'm telling you to go home. You look irritable and you should just get some rest, take a bath. Allow yourself to relax." Tom smiled at Clara gently and prayed that she would have a rational reaction.

"Oh." Clara said, furrowing her brow in realisation. "You actually want me to go home." She looked to the door of the classroom and stared at it for a few long seconds.

"Clara, you know I don't mean it like that..." Tom started defensively, standing up to walk over to her.

"No, no I know what you mean." Clara interrupted, realising that he had interpreted her words in the wrong manner. "Um, thanks. I'll just...go." She gave him another small smile and left the classroom, her head wondering off to different places.

* * *

 

She threw her keys down on the side and walked over to the sofa in the middle of the room. As she sat down, she gently closed her eyes and tried to clear out all the things racing through her head.

Sometimes, she could embrace the peace and quiet of her mind, when others it was like a million people were screaming at her and her head was about to explode.

After a few moments of stillness, Clara stood up and walked over to the phone to check for any messages. As she took her first step, Clara knocked over the bin beside the sofa.

"Drat." She muttered to herself, squatting down to pick up the few things that fell out of the bin and putting them back.

As she scrunched up some old bills and failed lessons plans, Clara began to scrunch up some photo paper.

Upon realising what it was, she immediately began to unravel the pictures and straighten out the small crumples and tears in the paper. Once it was full again, Clara froze and stared at the three small photographs. She had no idea how long she was standing there, but at some point she had fallen back onto the sofa as she stared at the three images.

Her index finger traced the small shape of the baby's body and head. She traced her nail over the tiny fingers that had just began to develop and over the small legs that lightly protruded from the edges of the tiny body that had only just begun to grow. She felt her throat tighten as she examined the small bump of the baby's nose that she could only just make out on the picture and her eyes began to build up with heavy tears as she looked over the ears that were only slightly visible.

She clutched the pictures to her chest as a tear ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the paper. Once one tear had started, the rest came in floods and she struggled to keep her breathing steady as her shoulders shook in sobs uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry baby." She whispered, so quietly that only someone very close could hear. "I'm so sorry for never loving you right. I really did love you. I loved you more than anything. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, It's all my fault."

She had opened the floodgates to all of her feelings and now the wave was crashing down on her at an incredible force.

"I shouldn't have hated the idea of you so much. Maybe if I had loved you properly the you'd never have died. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

John stood in the doorway of his home, watching his wife curl up in a ball of sobs in his doorway. He had come home from work early for the weekend and was frozen in his space by what he had found upon entering his home.

The door shut loudly behind him and he knew Clara had heard it by the way she flinched, but her sobs carried on.

John ran over to the sofa and wrapped his arm around her shoulders from behind, hushing soft sounds into her ear.

Clara reached around and flung her arms around his shoulders, clutching to him as hard as she could. Her head was buried in his neck as she allowed more and more tears to shake her body into fits of hysteria. "I'm so sorry." She cried, clinging onto John so tight that it hurt him. "It's all my fault John, I'm sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into his lap as he fully sat on the couch. "No, it isn't. It isn't your fault Clara, it isn't." He insisted, running his fingers through her hair gently to sooth her cries.

"I should have cared more about her. I didn't care enough. I wasn't a good mother, it's all my fault." She sobbed, shaking her head at his protests.

"Ssh, it isn't. You are the best mother. The very best. None of this was your fault. You did everything you could." He persisted, pulling Clara as close to him as possible in the hope he could provide some comfort.

"But that wasn't enough." She whispered, cries sobs still attacking her every breath and all John could do was hold her.

When Clara's paroxysm finally calmed down, she fell into a light sleep in John's arms. He carried her to the bedroom and allowed her to sleep off her tears, praying that she would feel better once she woke.

He cooked her some pancakes and dug some ice cream out of the freezer. Clara woke up shortly after and the look on her face told him how thankful she was for the kind gesture. She smiled as she ate the food, thanking him for it gently.

Her cheeks were still etched with tears stains and her eyes were still sore, but at least she was feeling and communicating which was better than closing up.

Clara curled up to John on the sofa as they watched television for a while, trying to pass the time. It was the most intimate they'd been for months. Simply sitting together made Clara feel at home once more and she only wished she'd realised just how much she'd needed John before.

Clara switched off the TV after a while and her lips quirked up into a soft smile. "Sorry, it was just making me really sleepy." She said sheepishly, burying her head into John's chest.

"No problem." He replied lovingly. "Come on, let's go to bed." He rubbed her am lightly as they stood up and walked to the bedroom after turning off all the lights.

Clara sat atop of the duvet, still clothed, and patted the spot beside her, signalling John to do the same. He sat next to her and opened up his arms for Clara to rest her body in his chest, fiddling with strands of her hair as she did and kissing the top of her head lightly.

"I'm sorry for what was said all those months ago." John murmured. Clara froze as she remembered what he was apologising for. She wasn't sure why he needed to bring it up now. "I didn't mean a single word of it. I..."

"Ssh" Clara hummed, planting a finger over John's lips before kissing them lightly. She leaned back and stared into his eyes for a minute, watching as they gazed lovingly back into hers.

"I come from a town in Saratov Oblast." Clara began, speaking slowly as if she were recalling distant memories. "It's called Pugachyov."

"Clara, you're not meant to..." John said quickly.

"My Mother died when I was just sixteen years old. Only a few weeks later, I was selected to move to Moscow for this mission. I had to leave my father behind."

John took a sharp breath. He knew that they weren't meant to speak of their past lives, but if it was what Clara needed then he knew that it was necessary.

"My name is..." Clara started, closing her eyes and taking a short breath. "Was, Lilja Kurotkov. Born on the twenty third of November, 1963."

"Lilja?" John asked slowly, looking down towards Clara. She lifted her head up slowly and met his eyes, nodding once.

"My parents died before I knew them." He admitted, looking down. "I grew up in an orphanage in Moscow."

Clara looked down and shut her eyes once more, unwilling to imagine what an awful childhood he must have had.

"My name was Nikolai Dolzhikov. I don't know my real birthday. The day I arrived at the orphanage was the fourth of September, 1961."

Clara took a few breaths before making the decision to switch into Russian. Her voice came out as a mild whisper, wary of anyone around hearing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for." He replied, testing the Russian out on his tongue. Clara smiled at his slight accent. She could hear he'd been brought up in a rougher place from the way he spoke.

"I have everything to be sorry for. I've hurt you so much." She whispered, holding onto John's chest tightly.

"Never say sorry Lilja. You changed my life in the best way." John leant down and captured Clara's lips in his, slowly as if he could mend the damage in her heart.

She pulled back slowly, their lips still in touching distance. "I prefer it when you call me Clara." She said slowly, still in Russian as her tongue danced over the syllables that suddenly felt so alien in her mouth. "Lilja is the name of a girl who died back in Moscow. Clara is the name I have with you. Clara is the name I have devoted to you."

John nodded slowly, capturing Clara's lips once more as he tried to stop his eyes from tearing up. "As John is yours." He whispered.

He kissed her passionately, slowly leaning over her body so her was cradling it as she lay down on the bed. His kisses were slow and deep as he fondled the base of her skull fondly, running his fingers through her soft hair. Clara's arms wrapped around John's neck and pulled his body closer to hers.

One of her hands clutched John's hair, ruffling it more with each kiss. The other trailed down his back and along his side. It came to the base of his shirt, where she slowly lifted the hem up, asking permission.

John lifted his body up slightly to give Clara better access and she pulled his shirt up his body, breaking the kiss apart for a small moment to remove the piece of clothing.

Clara's hands ran up and down John's bare chest, trailing nonsense patterns into his skin as he continued to crave her body with his mouth. His lips left hers and began to slowly trail down her neck, delicately sucking and nipping each part of her skin. Each action screamed out their feelings for one another as they caressed the each other lovingly.

"Chto ya kogda-libo dyelal, chtobi zasloozhit' Vas?" Clara whispered in John's ear as he lightly nipped on the porcelain skin between her shoulder and her neck, making her gasp lightly.

John looked up into Clara's eyes and stared at her seriously. " Ya bil bi potyeryan byez Vas. Vi podrazoomyevayetye vsye dlya myenya."

Clara gasped and nodded, resuming the kiss once more. This time, their exchanges were much more heated. Clara quickly pulled of her shirt and her bra along with it. John hastily removed his trousers, and Clara removed her skirt, discarding them to the side somewhere.

Clara wrapped her legs around John's waist, marvelling in the feel on his bare skin against hers. If she was lost, then John was her salvation. He always managed to bring her home in the end.

John ran his hands up and down Clara's back, leaving light trails of where his nails gently scraped her skin. Clara squeezed her thighs tight, causing John to moan. She did it again to elicit the sound from his once more, smirking when she saw his face, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

John wasted no time in removing the last of their remaining clothes after that, running his hands up and down Clara's body lovingly as she unhooked her legs to pulled her knickers down her legs. His mouth followed his hand, which was moving southwards, as he stroked her hip bone gently, feeling the scar in the side of her abdomen that was beginning to pink and fully heal. He pressed a small kiss to the discoloured section of skin, hesitating to wait for Clara's reaction.

He heard her sharp intake of breath before her slow exhale. He could tell that her throat was constricting with tears once more and he kissed the scar lightly again before crawling back up Clara's body to capture her tongue in a wild dance with his.

As Clara wrapped her legs around his waist once more, everything sped up again. He took no time in positioning himself at her entrance and pushing himself into her, mouth hung open for a few moments before he pressed open mouthed- kisses to Clara's swollen lips.

He moved his arms underneath Clara's shoulders and pulled out, pushing back into her once more. Clara let out a soft moan that made John's skin tingle. Each movement brought the other closer, driving them towards the end.

Clara didn't want it to end. She wanted to tell him more about how she felt, show him just how much he truly meant to her before this moment was over.

John was feeling the same way but his thrusts were getting ragged and jerky as his head began to cloud up. He saw Clara's eyes roll into the back of head as her moans of pleasure began to increase in sound.

"With a loud plea, he clutched Clara's body to his and pushed into her. "Clara." He groaned, long and stretched out into her ear.

Clara felt her own ending approaching as John gave a few final thrusts, her head spinning as she felt the turmoil in her stomach building. With a cry of John's name, she threw her head back and arched into him, coming apart around him.

John pressed lots of exhausted kisses to Clara's forehead, holding her body to his as close as he could.

Once he fully came down from his high, John rolled onto his side and pulled Clara into his arms. She closed her eyes and rested on his chest, finding the position more comforting than ever.

"Ya lyooblyoo Vas, Clara." John murmured, closing his eyes to drift off to sleep.

"I love you too John." Clara replied softly, shutting her eyes too.

It was then Clara realised that maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was a way that John could mend her soul after all.

Okay: So in this I have been calculating all the dates from 1982 onward.

Now, we all know that Clara's birthday is the 23rd of November and because in the first chapter she was nineteen, I counted back nineteen years to get her birth date. It is a complete coincidence that it happened to be 1963! I had to triple check it because that was entirely unintentional!

Russian translations (For when it was in actual Russian) :

Chto ya kogda-libo dyelal, chtobi zasloozhit' Vas?- What have I ever done to deserve you?

Ya bil bi potyeryan byez Vas. Vi podrazoomyevayetye vsye dlya myenya.- I'd be lost without you. You mean everything to me

Ya lyooblyoo Vas- I love you

Hope that provides some context! I just thought those certain phrases needed to be written in Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay: So in this I have been calculating all the dates from 1982 onward.
> 
> Now, we all know that Clara's birthday is the 23rd of November and because in the first chapter she was nineteen, I counted back nineteen years to get her birth date. It is a complete coincidence that it happened to be 1963! I had to triple check it because that was entirely unintentional!
> 
> Russian translations (For when it was in actual Russian) :
> 
> Chto ya kogda-libo dyelal, chtobi zasloozhit' Vas?- What have I ever done to deserve you?
> 
> Ya bil bi potyeryan byez Vas. Vi podrazoomyevayetye vsye dlya myenya.- I'd be lost without you. You mean everything to me
> 
> Ya lyooblyoo Vas- I love you
> 
> Hope that provides some context! I just thought those certain phrases needed to be written in Russian.


	11. Something Beautiful

Trust is not something you can teach yourself to have. It has to be learnt over time and through experience.

Trust is something that Lilja Kurotkov had always lacked. She'd been hurt too many times to trust anyone. Instead, she had closed off her emotions for years.

But now she had someone who she could allow herself to trust. It was a slow process, building and building day by day. She barely even realised it happening, taking it in her stride.

It was only after nearly two months did she realised that something within her had changed. When she thought of John, she saw someone she depended on; someone she could trust.

* * *

 

John woke up to an empty bed. It was a Monday morning and it wasn't unlike Clara to be up earlier so she could be fully awake. Her teaching training application had gone through and she had been allowed to do her ITT in the school which she was already working at, which was a major relief. Tom had been the assigned supervising teacher, per his request, and they worked wonderfully together. The kids already loved Clara before and took half of his lessons anyway when he got bored.

So she'd begun waking up earlier in the mornings and making sure she was in a right head for work. She was actually very excited about her teacher training. The KGB had formed a few documents for her to say she was a graduate and it was all sorted very quickly. As weird as it sounded, Clara loved being an English teacher. She secretly wished that the life she had built with John was the entirety of their relationship and occupation, without all of the agency work at night or at the weekend.

John sighed as he woke, looking through the bedroom door towards the kitchen to check if she was there. When he saw no sign of her, he grunted in confusion and slowly trailed himself out of bed. He was yawning as he walked into the bathroom, barely noticing Clara sitting on the edge of the bath tub.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her nervous expression and he studied her body language before approaching her.

Her eyes were trained on the floor and she was biting her bottom lip. She always did that when she had something to tell him. During his brief analysis, Clara looked up and stared him in the eye. She gave a small smile and gripped her hands harder onto the tub to secure herself there.

It was then that he saw the white stick in Clara's left hand, securely fastened between the bath and her skin.

"Is that...?" John began, pointing towards the plastic instrument. Clara looked down at it, snapping out of her mild daydream.

"Oh yeah, that. Yeah, it's positive." She spoke slowly, trying to make sure all her words were in the correct place.

John's eyes widened in happiness and he had to run over her last sentence in his head. "Positive?" He asked, his body tensing up in happiness.

Clara nodded slowly, flashing John a small grin before he dived towards her and enveloped her in his arms. He peppered her face with kisses before capturing her lips in a small kiss. He could sense her hesitancy and the issue needed to be addressed.

When he pulled back, he suddenly realised what the look on her face before had been about. "It's all going to be okay." John said softly, taking Clara's hands in his and tipping her forward slightly so she was half resting in his arms. Her eyes diverted down to where their hands met and she bit her lip, pondering what to say, in her head.

"I..I know it is." She began, stumbling through her sounds. "I'm just scared, you know? I don't want to mess this up." Clara took a few shaky breaths before giving John a teary smile.

John shook his head and pulled her into his arms comfortingly. "You've never messed anything up." He whispered, kissing her temple. He pulled back from the hug, his hands still on her shoulder blades. "This baby is going to be loved so much. And it's all going to be perfect."

Clara smiled at John and nodded, accepting his lips once more. She clutched onto his bare shoulders and smiled into the kiss. "I'm happy." She finally decided, telling John in a whisper. "I thought that I might not be able to...get pregnant again but...I'm happy. God, I'm halfway over the fucking moon right now."

John laughed with Clara as his grin spread across his face, unwilling to stop it in it's course. "Me too. You have no idea just how much."

John leaned back to stand up, extending his hand to Clara who took it happily. The moment she was standing, John picked her up in a hug and spun her around three times. She smiled at him in complete joy and John could have sworn he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

* * *

 

Clara did not enjoy the heated discussion she had to have with her boss as she explained that she would be on medical leave in just over four months. She's luckily already completed three months of teacher training, considering she had basically been teaching half of Tom's lessons for a while now, so they said she should be cleared by the time she went on maternity leave. Besides, her last month of teacher training would be in September and the baby wasn't due until the end of December.

John was still going on his mission with the secretary for information. He'd told Clara that it was going to end very soon as they'd got all their information and he just had to find a reasonable explanation for the two of them t break up without it looking suspicious. Secretly, Clara was elated by this news as it meant John wouldn't be leaving her alone at night as often anymore.

Of course, Clara was now on no missions. John had told the embassy that they couldn't have a repeat of last time and luckily, Svetlana had agreed with them. Most of the people in charge were men who didn't understand what that kind of trauma can do to a girl and so Clara felt very blessed that her boss decided to have a heart for once in her life.

This time, when they went for the scan, John insisted on going with Clara. She hadn't even considered that he wouldn't be there this time but he obviously still had sour feelings from the last pregnancy that had carried over to certain aspects in their lives. He didn't blame her for it though, even when she said things that were horrible. He'd known that they had both overreacted at certain things and in the end they'd only worsened the situation for themselves.

Clara spent every morning throwing up, silently thanking someone out there that her baby was still with them and that nothing would happen to it. It was a weird thing to be thanking a higher force over, but then nothing about Clara's life had ever been normal so there was no point starting at that now.

John knew it was hard for Clara when they were told their baby was a girl. She'd been hoping that it would be a boy, something different from the last child. She felt awful for thinking that but it was just a horrible thought. The more different this baby was to the last, the more chance it had to survival. At least that's how it was in her head.

Clara and John spent each night holding each other and reaffirming their feelings for each other. It was their way of guaranteeing that they would be okay and so would their baby. They would talk of random things, such as baby names and ideas for the future. It was rather ridiculous of them to even consider this as everything in their lives was decided by the Russians.

Except the baby's name. That was their own choice. They couldn't call their child a Russian name for obvious reasons, but Clara wanted something she loved. She immediately hit down John's request to call her Lily, stating that it was too close to home and she might get confused at times. From then on, all names beginning with the letter's L, N, C and J were banned.

It seemed the Russians had some major plans for them after all. During the summer holidays, when Clara hit the five month mark, they were given a week's notice to pack their things and move to a three bedroom house on the outskirts of London. It was nearer to Clara's school than she had been before and was a friendly neighbourhood. They had called it "their present for the happy family" as they gave Clara and John the keys. John had explained to Clara later how it wouldn't seem plausible, young parents who earn a good amount with a child who lived in a small apartment building. Clara tried not to question the three bedrooms in her head, knowing what the answer to that question would be.

Clara was only back at work for three weeks before she left for her maternity leave. She was kind of glad about that, considering everyone had pestered her about the baby and the plans and anything they could think up to do with babies. Tom hadn't been too sympathetic either, making fun of her in front of classes about the amount of cream pies she'd eaten over the holidays. In honesty, she was going to miss Tom for the next year, although he promised to come and visit the baby the moment that he could.

On Clara's last day of work, she decided it was time to invite Tom home with her so he could meet John. After all, she spoke of him often yet the two of them had never met. Clara suspected that Tom had quite hostile feelings towards John from several different occasions when Clara had come into school looking tired or with a massive bruise on her face. Even so, he agreed to go for her sake and to play nice. He even told her that he would look at John with a new page and try and form some sort of friendship with him for her benefit only. Clara had jumped for joy at that and flung her arms around his neck in a gracious thank you.

John hadn't been the happiest person in the world when he got home and she told him they'd have a guest over in less than an hour. He'd heard great things about Tom of course, but sometimes he felt as if this man were too close to Clara. From what he could tell, he had only ever been friendly, but his jealousy was kicking into his instincts and it took several splashes of water in the face to clear them.

Clara had began to cook spaghetti carbonara but John, upon seeing her with the many pans and walking around, insisted that he do it so that she wouldn't be stressed out. It was also for the sake of the food that would most likely burn under her watch, but she didn't need to know that.

At promptly half six, a knock came at the apartment door. Clara skipped over to the entrance and opened the door eagerly, grinning at Tom enthusiastically.

"Hey!" She smiled, extending her hand to invite him in. "Thanks for coming." Clara walked Tom into the living room as they stood by the sofa.

"Not at all." Tom smiled back, leaning in to place a soft thank you- kiss on Clara's cheek. "Ah, I see we haven't yet been introduced!" Tom smiled, turning to face John, who had walked over to him slowly and was examining him from head to toe. Clara shot John a stern look to tell him to be polite as he extended his hand to shake.

"You must be Tom." John smiled, being as kind as he could be. Clara seemed satisfied so he guessed he was doing okay. "Clara's told me lots about you. Don't worry, all great things." John laughed, smiling over at Clara who was rolling her eyes. She had the strange feeling that she would end up being the main topic of conversation over the meal tonight as it would be one of the only things the boys could probably get along about.

"Yes, and you're John. Clara's said a lot about you. Not entirely sure they've all been great but..."

"Tom!" Clara scolded, flashing an icy glare at him.

"Don't want to get on the wrong side of her." John whispered loudly. "That look is not one I like to be on receiving end of."

"No, me neither." Tom agreed, making a point to stare at Clara as he stare seemed to somehow intensify.

"Stop it. Now. Both of you." Clara huffed, walking over to the kitchen so she could set the table. John patted Tom on the back happily as they silently giggled behind her back.

Clara was quite happy that John had cooked in the end as it seemed he might have saved the dinner from an awful fate if Clara had tried to cook it. She was right about being the main topic of conversation, and some of the things they said about her made her want to dig a hole six feet under the ground and lay there for a very long time.

But overall, she had a very good night. Tom was kind to John and John went to the bathroom, she finally got a moment alone to talk to Tom about him.

"He seems like a nice guy Clara." Tom smiled. "He's good to you. When you're not looking, he stares at you as if are his salvation. And then..." Tom trailed off his speech, unwilling to say anymore.

"No, go on." Clara insisted, staring at Tom intently.. "And then what?"

Tom coughed lightly before facing Clara once more. "And then, sometimes, he has this look in his eye. I can't explain it. It's like...It's like when you find something out about someone or...or when you feel guilty for something or know something that makes you concerned. I don't know, just ignore me."

Clara thought over Tom's words for a moment, puzzling out what he was trying to say. As Clara opened her mouth to speak, John came back into the room and their conversation ceased.

After Tom had gone, Clara took a long shower. She had expected John to join her but he looked exhausted as if he had a very long day. When she got out of the shower, she found a note on the bed in John's handwriting.

Last date tonight. Be back by twelve x

Clara smiled as she read the note, lying back on the bed to rest her legs. They seemed to get more tired from carrying around the baby and she was constantly wanting to collapse from exhaustion.

She wasn't aware that she'd fallen asleep until she felt the bed dip to her side as John got in. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock, which read 11:42.

"How d'it go?" Clara mumbled, moving her body slowly to the other side. It was a lot harder to roll around with the baby bump and John smirked slightly as her hand came to rest on it.

"As well as it could have done. She cried for a bit but that's all over now." John murmured, kissing Clara sweetly. His hand came to rest atop hers as he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Oh." Clara let out a brief sound of discomfort and John's eyes flashed open.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, urgently, his free hand immediately coming up to cup her face with concern.

"It's fine. I just...Ah, she's kicking." Clara moaned, bending over slightly. "Hang on..."

Clara looked up at John who's face was painted in pure shock and happiness with a smile to match his. "Can I feel?" John asked nervously, pressing his hand down lightly on top of Clara's for any sense of movement.

Clara grabbed his hands and moved it lower down her stomach, where he rubbed lightly. "She likes to move when we talk." Clara whispered, almost as if the baby could hear them devising a secret plan.

"Hello baby." John cooed lightly after kissing Clara gently on the lips. It was then he felt a small bump in Clara's stomach and the face she pulled clearly showed that it was the baby. "I...I just felt her...I just..." John pointed towards Clara's stomach, tears of happiness building in his eyes.

"Must be your kisses." Clara grinned, puckering her lips to accept another kiss. Clara understood that it was different for John. He didn't have to carry the baby around day and night and have the connection with the child she did, so this was the closest thing he could get to their child. That thought alone made Clara grin from ear to ear and she fell asleep in John's arms with a smile on her face.

* * *

* * *

 

John had never heard Clara spill out so many swear words in English before this day. She was lying in a hospital bed, clutching onto John's hand extremely tightly as two midwives told her to push. John had to admit that Clara had awful timing. She had gone into labour on New Years day and it was a good thing it had been the end of the night or next to no midwives would have been there for the actual birth the next morning.

She screamed one more time, her face twisted in agony. She kept telling herself that it would soon all be worth it. She had faced worse pain than this, or so she told herself.

"Just one more push." The nurse said, urging Clara to keep trying. Clara cried out once more, John brushing her hair back from her face as they heard a loud cry from the baby.

Clara collapsed back onto the bed, her body drained physically and with a shocked smile growing on her face.

John left her side quickly, after brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her lips quickly, to walk over to the nurses who were cleaning the baby off. They wrapped her in a small cloth before handing her over to John, who smiled down at the girl tearfully.

"Can I see her?" Clara asked impatiently, looking up at John with a sense of urgency. The girl was screaming in his arms as he tried to coo her gently.

John immediately caught on to Clara nerves and carefully walked over to her side, handing her the small child. She was tiny, barely big enough to be cradled in one of Clara's arms.

"Hello." Clara smiled, kissing the baby's forehead. The baby ceased her screaming as she stared up at her Mum. "Hello baby girl."

John looked at the two, every thought stopping and freezing. He leant down and ran hi finger over the baby's small foot as Clara turned her head to smile at him before diverting her attention back to the baby.

"Can we call her...?" Clara began, her head running through millions of names in her head.

John looked at Clara, the same dilemma in his mind too. He looked around slowly, eyes never leaving the baby for more than a few seconds. He even considered saying the words "Healthy and safety?" as he read all of the notices in the ward.

Clara looked up with sudden look of knowing on her face. "Heather?" Can we call her Heather?" She asked happily, looking down at the baby and nodding slightly as if to re-affirm her choice.

John looked down at the child who was now sleeping in her mother's arms. The more he stared at her, the more he saw her as a Heather.

"Yeah. Heather. Perfect." John grinned, kissing Clara's head as he looked down at the two women he loved the most in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything I know about childbirth is from TV shows and fact books so I'm sorry if that ending is aw


	12. Struck Down By Lightening

few months with Heather were exhausting for Clara. She was barely sleeping and barely ever slept a wink.

In the first month, Clara had insisted on waking up every single time to check on heather, saying that she needed reassurance her Mother was there. john completely understood that and thought it would be best for the two to bond.

But after the first month was over, John lay down some ground rules. He demanded that Clara was not to wake up to Heather's crying and he would check on the baby. If she needed feeding, John would then wake up Clara but if it was just a nappy change then John would do it. He felt it was only fair to do it that way round, considering he couldn't exactly breast feed for Clara.

It made Clara smile that John had forgotten Mothers are very tuned in to their baby's cries. At first, if John didn't wake then Clara would do it, not wanting to disturb John in his sleep despite what he had insisted. Unfortunately, John found out about this very quickly when the Heather's nappy was clean in the morning and wasn't screaming for milk in the night. From then on Clara had to wake John up.

In Clara's head it sounded strange, but she'd never been more grateful for it. John was being a saint to her and making it so she could actually breathe and sleep every so often. She was still tired of course, but John's rules made everything slightly easier.

* * *

 

John hated working until five, every single night. He only got home at half-past and Heather was usually asleep by six-thirty. He craved the weekends when he got to spend more time with his little girl.

Every day when he got home from work, Heather would cry out in happiness at the door shutting. It was one of the things that, on a bad day at work, reminded John what it was all for. He was doing everything so his child could have a better life. That's what the whole war was about, wasn't it?

Clara was cooking in the kitchen on a Friday night. She wanted it to be special for John after a long week at work. Heather was sat on the sofa, clapping her hands together at some show on the television. Clara smiled every time the little girl squealed, laughing at her reactions to the most strange things. Heather had learnt to sit when she was six months old and it seemed Clara could ever get her to lie down anymore. She'd never known ten months could fly by so fast. She was going to go back to work soon and she found herself not wanting to anymore.

She looked over to the TV to see Heather laughing at Bagpuss. As much as Clara would have loved to deny it, she strangely found herself liking some of the children's television, this weird show being one of them. She enjoyed the ideas of the toys coming to life and it always made Heather smile.

At that moment, the door opened and John peeked his head around the door. "Is this the Smith family?" He laughed, fully stepping into the house.

Clara looked over her shoulder and turned to face John, rolling her eyes at him as he walked in after what looked like a tiring day.

"Dada- da-da-dadadadada!" Heather squealed, arms outstretched to give her father a hug.

Clara's eyes widened as she stared at the baby. She looked over to John, whose eyes had seemingly widened too. Babies babbled nonsense all the time, but she was saying it directly to her father with purpose.

"Da! Da!" Heather cried out once more, still waiting for a hug. John ran forward and picked Heather up off the sofa, lifting her in the air and spinning her around before resting her against his chest and kissing her cheek affectionately.

"Hello Heather. You been a good girl for your Mummy today?" He murmured, kissing her chubby cheek once more.

"Bagpuss had been on since eleven." Clara grinned, walking over to the pair and kissing heather too. John rolled his eyes at her, knowing of his daughter's love for that particular programme.

Clara took Heather off John and bounced her up and down in her arms. "Who's that?" Clara said lovingly, pointing towards John who stood up straight and tall as he was spoken to.

"Dadadadada!" Heather laughed, clapping her hands together at the same time.

John started grinning at Clara, who had a smile to match his. "And who's that Heather?" John asked, pointing at Clara who kissed Heather's head a couple of times.

Mamawamama." Heather mumbled, leaning into Clara's chest to rest her head.

"Yeah that's right." Clara cooed, rubbing Heather's back soothingly as the little girl shut her eyes after all of the excitement. "I'm Mama."

* * *

 

Clara adjusted the wig on her head as she applied blood red lipstick to her lips. John lay in the bed, watching his wife get ready for her assignment.

"I don't think you should do it." John grumbled, rolling on to his side to watch her. Clara tutted, rolling her eyes into the mirror to make sure he could see.

"I did a mission the other day John." Clara sighed, tucking her recorder neatly under her wig. "I really don't understand why you keep making a fuss."

John mumbled something that Clara didn't quite catch as he moved his body to sit on the edge of the bed. "Heather...Heather is only eighteen months. What if she wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not back yet?" He thought up, trying to make his worry sound convincing.

Clara saw right past John's lie as she stood up and moved over to put her skirt on. "I know what this is really about John so stop lying to me."

John closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. "I don't like it Clara. The idea of those...men objectifying you, I just don't like it." John explained.

Clara turned around to face him as she grabbed her earrings off the commode and slid them into each ear. She then walked over to John still only in her skirt and bra. "They're not objectifying me John. It's my job and I do it voluntarily."

John still looked in a mood and Clara pulled his face to hers to give him a sly kiss. "You have sex with other women all the time for the job and I never complain." Clara smiled. "Besides, you didn't make as much of a fuss the other day now, did you?"

John stood up, pulling his wife up with him. "No, I didn't." He hummed. "But I didn't realise how jealous I would get until after you had gone."

"Oh, you were jealous now were you?" Clara smiled. "I thought you were...what did you say again? Oh yes, I thought you didn't like the idea of men objectifying me?" Clara smirked, teasing John mercilessly.

John smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Clara's ruby red lips. "Oh yes, I meant that. Did I say something else?" He smiled, taking Clara's bottom lip in-between his own once more.

Clara laughed, using one finger to push him back onto the bed, falling beside him. He kissed her neck slowly, his silent plea for her not to go. "Aren't you doing that right now though? Objectifying me?"

John looked up cheekily and paused for a moment as he struggled to think of a good comeback. "Yes, but I don't like it when other men do it."

Clara hummed in amusement, pecking his lips once more. "Well, hard cheese." She teased, standing up and walking over to her chair to get her shirt.

John made a point to run his eyes up and down Clara's body hungrily. "You should go dressed like that, he'll never be able to resist you!" John teased.

Clara turned around to shush him, pointing towards Heather's room and John made a guilty face, both of them staying quiet to check they hadn't woken the child. When everything stayed quiet, Clara flashed John a knowing smile.

"Only when I'm dressed like this?" She laughed, making her way back over to the bed as she pulled her shirt on.

John pretended to think about it and then slowly shook his head, dragging Clara back onto the bed with him. "All of the time. You're irresistible."

* * *

 

John heard the door shut slowly as Clara tried to sneak in quietly.

"It's okay. I'm awake." He muttered, sitting up and turning on the bedside light. "How'd it go?" He asked, rubbing his eyes awake.

Clara was facing the mirror, removing her lipstick with a wipe. John knew something looked tense about her, but he just imagined it was the job.

"I got the recording." She replied, grabbing her nightdress from the corner of the room and throwing over the chair. She removed her shirt quickly and chucked it to the side of the room. "It's in the wig in my bag."

John's eyes widened as he studied her back slowly. He felt his breathing quicken as Clara carried on speaking. "Apparently the British are building fifty new subs that should make less sound. I have a lot of the details on the recording."

John stood up off the bed and made his way over to Clara quickly as she brushed her hair over her back, reaching for her nightdress. "'I'll go over it tomorrow and then send it to...John?"

Clara froze as John looked at her through the mirror. His eyes were wide with anger and confusion. She flinched as his fingers moved her hair over her neck, sweeping it away from her back so he could take a look at the damage.

"What. Happened?" John spat, staring at the long lines that cut through Clara's skin.

Clara shrugged of John's touch, taking a step away from him. "He was just a creep. Some people have weird tastes sometimes. It happens, it doesn't..." John was trailing his fingers gently along the scarring. "Ah!" Clara whimpered, arching her back away from his touch.

She hid her face in her hair, unwilling for John to see the damage. She could see in the mirror that he was already furious though. His muscles were tense and he seemed to freeze in his anger.

"John?" Clara whispered, unsure of what his next move would be. John suddenly raced over to the corner of the room as he put his trousers and shoes on. "John, what are you doing?" Clara cried out, trying to stop his actions.

"My wife had the living crap beaten out of her. I'm going to deal with it." He said simply, pushing past her and running out of the door.

"John, get back here right now!" Clara screamed after him, chasing him down the stairs. He ignored her as he strode too the door, fury pummelling through his veins.

When John hit the door, Clara caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "Stop it John, just stop!" She screamed at him, trying to pull him away from the door. "If you go in there and kill him then this whole thing will be over! That hotel has security tapes with my face on them!"

John seemed to calm down, weighing out his options in his head. every instinct in his body wanted to hurt the man that had hurt Clara, but the practical thing was to let it go.

John and Clara both turned their heads upstairs as they heard Heather's screaming from their shouts. "Oh now look what you've done!" Clara groaned, running back up the stairs to soothe the child.

John watched her as she ran, back slightly strained from the marks. He dropped the keys in his hand back onto the side and walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas.

He walked back upstairs into Heather's room to see Clara holding the girl, trying to hush her back to sleep. He stayed in the doorway as he watch Clara hold their child closely, making sure she was okay. Heather looked over to her Dad shortly, her big brown eyes brimmed with tears from being woken up. She had the same eyes as her Mother; the eyes that made John give into anything. He could tell that he wouldn't be able to deny his daughter of much when she was older just from that.

It didn't take long for Heather to fall back asleep and Clara's body relaxed once she had. She put her back in her cot and walked back into the bedroom slowly, John following behind.

They didn't say anything as Clara changed into her nightdress, John getting in the bed with the frozen peas still in his hand.

Clara hesitantly got into the bed shortly after and lay down on her side, facing John. "I'm sorry." She whispered, staring up at him uselessly. "I know you're pissed, but going after that guy would have been pointless."

John shut his eyes and nodded with her in agreement. "I'm sorry for losing my temper. I just, I saw the marks and I...I just wanted to..."

"Hey, shush, it's okay." Clara soothed as John struggled for words. "It doesn't matter really. Besides, it was bound to happen as some point." John didn't even bother faking a smile at Clara's last sentence, his mouth twisted in mix of emotions.

"Lie on your front." John said tenderly, stroking Clara's hair back from her face. She smiled and obliged, lying her arms on the pillow so she could rest her head.

John pulled her hair away from her back which her nightgown conveniently showed enough of. He grabbed the back of peas and gently held it down on the first mark.

Clara hissed at the first contact, her muscles tensing up and her bones growing rigid. Eventually, the feeling went numb and she relaxed slightly as John carried on nursing each of her marks.

Once he was done, John lay down on his side, wrapping an arm around Clara's lower back and pressing a kiss to her temple. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder , feeling a little bit safer once more.

* * *

 

John made sure Clara was still asleep as he dragged his body out of bed. He checked the time. It was 5am. The sun was rising outside and John snuck out of the room as quietly as he could, taking Clara's bag with him on the way.

Once he was in the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and dug for the small recorder that Clara had carried the night before. There was about forty minutes of recording on the small tape player and john put it in the cassette player so he could listen. The volume was very low, only just loud enough for him to hear.

He heard as Clara turned on the recording, her seductive lines addressed towards the man from the night before. He barely noticed her voice as she spoke, making her sounds come as seductively as she could.

He could hear material ripping in the tape and John shut his eyes, trying to block out bad images in his head. He kept thinking about what the man had done to Clara every time he heard her let off a loud cry.

He drank down his tea slowly, listening for any conversation about the intel as he tried to ignore the fact that the sounds were of his wife having sex.

He faced his back towards the recorder as the minutes dragged by, clenching his fists on the side of the sink as he heard Clara fake an orgasm.

Then he heard some chatter and he focused his attention back to the tape. They were discussing the subs, the man showing off about how wealthy and powerful he was. It made John feel sick to his stomach to know that this man believed he could have power over Clara.

It was then in the recording that he heard a light smack of skin against skin. John flinched, hearing Clara trying to fake a moan. After a few seconds, he heard the sound of something strong hitting skin and Clara let out a heavy breath. Clara asked what it was he'd used before the man struck her again.

On the third strike, Clara screamed out in obvious pain. Two more strikes and Clara cried out again. The veins in John's arms showed as he clung tighter to the edge of the sink, sure he would crush the metal inwards if he carried on.

He heard Clara screaming out loudly before a loud muffling on the recorder covered up some noise. The next sounds were all muffled like they were into a pillow and he could tell Clara had been held down. At the next strike, John turned around quickly to turn off the recording, unable to take much more.

His finger moved to press down but Clara had already beaten him to it, turning off the tape. John looked up slowly to look Clara in the eye. She stared at him blankly for a few moments as he realised she'd been standing behind him. He could tell he looked angry and horrified as he stared at a very tired Clara. She moved around him to the sink and grabbed a glass, getting herself some water to drink.

"I thought I told you that I would get the intel off the tape" Clara murmured, looking down to the floor. She fiddled with the tie on her dressing gown as she stared down at her bare feet.

John said nothing as leant against the table, looking down to the floor aswell. "Honestly, it was nowhere near as bad as it sounds." Clara said casually, filling up her glass once more as she'd already drunk her first one. "I was screaming louder to make him stop."

Clara's words gave no comfort to John, who was clenching his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from finding the man and killing him.

"How long were you standing there?" John said slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"A good ten minutes." Clara murmured, looking back up at John as she put her glass into the sink.

John sunk his head down and closed his eyes. Clara walked over to him guiltily and caressed his face, leaning into his body. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, keeping to her lower back to cause her no pain.

"Just forget this happened yeah?" Clara murmured into John's shoulder, kissing his neck lovingly.

John stiffened, unsure whether he could agree to that. He looked down at Clara, whose big brown eyes were staring back up at him. After a few moments of hesitation, John nodded and pulled Clara closer.

"Come on." Clara murmured into his neck, tugging on Johns shirt. "Let's go back to bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is a little creepier than anything I've ever written before! I think anyway. Basically, I wanted to show Clara going back on those kind of missions and as I was writing it last night, my sister asked to watch the Americans with me (what this is based on). I had forgotten all about episode 5 and as I watched it, this happens but in a bit of a different way. I thought it would be an interesting thing to incorporate into the story as it would really show some more sides to the characters and how Clara is still a loyal agent, willing to do what she must for the motherland. :)


	13. Time Won't Pass Us By

_May 16th, 1986_

John sat Heather down on the side of the bed, careful not to hurt her Mum. The two beamed up at Clara who had massive bags under her eyes. "Can I see him Mummy? Can I see him Mummy?" The two year old chanted, shouting excitedly.

"Ssh." John laughed, tickling Heather's tummy and she squirmed at his touch. "Be quiet Heather." He smiled, his hand falling on top of Clara's thigh. "You don't want to wake him."

Clara smiled at the pair, looking lovingly at John. It had been a long nine hours in labour for Clara, filled with lots of colourful curse words about allowing John to knock her up again. But in the end it had all been worth it, bringing Charlie along with all of the stress. This time, John and Clara hadn't known the sex of the baby. Clara had been ranting on for weeks about how this child was definitely a girl and she could feel it.

John knew he would receive a slap when he told Clara that it was her own fault for only thinking up girls' names. Unfortunately for John, the entire thing had backfired on him and Charlotte had just become Charlie.

Heather was now sat on her Mum's lap, giddily trying to peer at her little brother. He was only an hour old and his face was still crumpled as he slept. Heather smile down at the boy, reaching out her hand to stroke his face.

John immediately tried to pull her back but Clara shot him a glare. "Go on, but be gentle." Clara urged, watching her daughter look curiously down at the boy.

Heather stroked his cheek gently, rubbing her tiny finger against his smooth skin. "Hello Charlie." She murmured, gasping as the little boy let off a small yawn.

John felt his heart melt and he moved forward to stroke the boy's cheek too. Clara smiled down at them, watching as her family greeted their new arrival.

* * *

 

Having two children in the house was going to be a nightmare, Clara knew. But that didn't mean it stopped her from trying to be a great Mum to both of her kids. On the second night she took Charlie home, she was woken up in the early morning by his cries.

She quickly tended to his needs, making sure he was okay before turning back to bed. They'd decided that putting his cot in their room was the sensible thing for now. Then, when he was old enough, they would move Heather's room to the end of the corridor so Charlie could be nearer. It seemed like the most convenient arrangement as Charlie would be crying more, but for now they didn't want to uproot Heather.

As Clara walked past her bedroom door to go back to sleep, she heard a faint whisper from outside.

"Mummy?" The sound came again and Clara smiled as she realised it was her daughter. She opened the door slowly and peered down at the girl.

"What is it Heather?" She asked gently, kneeling down to her height.

The little girl was clutching her favourite teddy bear as she rubbed her eyes tiredly and let of a tiny yawn. "Charlie woke me up and now I can't sleep."

Clara nodded and stroked her hair out of her face. "Do you want to sleep with Mummy then?"

Heather nodded tiredly, looking dishevelled after being awoken by the screaming. "You do know that Charlie might cry again and it will be louder?"

Heather nodded once more, opening her arms out so she could cling onto Clara. "But you will be there Mummy." She whispered, resting her head on Clara's shoulder.

Clara stood up with Heather in her arms and carried her into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. John opened his heavy eyes to peer up at the two and smiled as he realised Heather would be sleeping with them that night.

Clara lay her down in-between her and John and allowed her to cuddle into her Mum. John stroked her back gently so she knew he was there and the little girl cuddled up to both of them.

"I missed this Mummy." Heather whispered, prodding Clara's shoulder as she closed her eyes.

"Missed what?" Clara murmured, trying to see if she could sleep despite her daughter's prods.

"Cuddles. We never had cuddles anymore because your tummy was too big but now we can again." Heather whispered, closing her eyes and wrapping her toes into Clara's nightdress.

Clara opened her eyes and smiled at the girl, kissing her forehead slowly. She peered over to John who smiled at her lovingly. "You know I never got cuddles anymore?" He pouted, making Clara bite her lip so she didn't laugh. "Do I get them now?"

Clara reached her arm over Heather and stroked his shoulder gently. "Patience." She laughed before closing her eyes for the final time and falling asleep.

* * *

 

When Clara woke the next morning, she realised that Heather was no longer by her side. It took her a few moments of blurred vision before she saw the girl lying on top of John's stomach. John, who looked like he was sleeping before, opened one eye as he heard the bed shift and smiled at Clara.

"She doesn't want to let me go to work. She woke up really early and rolled on top of me to tell me that." John laughed, rubbing his daughter's back as she mumbled in her sleep. Her chocolaty hair was flopped over her face and Clara grinned at the two.

"Stay right where you are, just give me a second." Clara smiled, running out of the bed quickly and rummaging through her bag.

She found what she was looking for and pulled it out happily, holding the camera in front of her as she took a shot of her husband and daughter. John smiled as Clara grinned at them, getting back into bed to stay warm.

John had two weeks off to spend with his children as his paternity leave and he planned on making every moment count. It was rare that they got such a long time off together. John wanted to take them on holiday but realised that they really couldn't with the new baby as he was only just starting to adjust to new things in the world.

That meant they got to spend long hours at home, doing nothing and just being a family. There nothing John loved more than that.

He made Clara and Heather pancakes in the morning, sending Heather crazy after all the sugar he allowed her to eat. Clara hadn't been entertained by that but John argued that she was a child and deserved some wild time every once in a while. Besides, John was there to calm her down and she was far more excited about her Daddy stay home than anything else.

Clara slept for most of the day, making the most of it whilst she could. John made sure Heather didn't disturb her by taking her out to the park for a while. He left the baby with Clara for an hour so that she could tend to his needs.

Heather dragged John onto every climbing frame as he chased her around the playground, earning him foul looks from other Mothers, but he didn't care. His daughter was having fun and so was he.

As Heather was running around, she ran into a little boy that was heading right into her direction. They bumped heads and fell backwards. John immediately ran over to Heather, who was crying, to check she was okay.

"Oh, does it hurt baby?" He asked, kissing her red forehead better. "Come here." He soothed, picking her up and tapping her back as she cried. He heard another parent mutter about how it served him right for letting her run loose, but he was too busy to shout at them for it. That may have been a good thing on his part too.

The little boy who ran into Heather was slightly older and reached his arms out for his father, the only other man in the playground. John stood up and winced before facing the man.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have been letting her run loose." John said slowly, hoping to not get blamed for the accident. Clara would never forgive him for that.

"No, not at all." The other man said as he picked up his son. "Accidents happen." As the other man stood up, John's brow furrowed and his eyes widened.

"Billy? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" John questioned, kissing his daughter's head occasionally as she finished off her tears.

The other man looked down to the ground. He was one of the other sleeper agents in the city. His wife was like Clara, brought over to England with him from Russia. john rarely talked to this man to avoid being caught but he remembered his face from the few times they had met. Billy had apparently remembered John's too.

"Oh yeah, got the day off you know." Billy murmured, flashing a friendly smile at John. John knew his body language all too well though. He was tense as he held his son, occasionally looking out of the corner of his eye.

John put Heather down on the ground, kissing her bumped head once more. "Go and play for a minute Heather." He said kindly, patting hr back for her to run off to the swings. Billy did the same to his child as he came closer to John.

"There's an op, isn't there?" John said in hushed tones. "Right now, in this park, there is an op." Billy nodded guiltily.

"I was told to bring my boy to avoid suspicion." Billy murmured, looking over to check on his son for a few moments.

John swallowed quickly, looking Billy dead in the eye. "Should I leave?" He murmured. He looked up at Billy who hadn't replied. "If I'm here, will it cause suspicion? Should I leave?"

Billy nodded once more. "It would be for the best." John nodded slowly and smiled up at Billy to stop it looking suspicious.

"Heather!" John called, opening his arms for the little girl to run into them. He swept her up into the air and carried her out. "Nice meeting you!" He shouted back to Billy, who waved in return.

John got home as quick as he could, deciding not tell Clara about the op in the park. It would only worry her and she wouldn't take the kids there anymore.

As he got in, Heather ran over to the sofa where Clara was asleep with Charlie on her chest. She climbed up and snuggled into Clara's side. John remembered the camera and ran upstairs quickly, racing back to take a snapshot of the three sleeping.

Clara woke up as she heard the snap and blinked awake. "Oi!" She shouted, pouting at John. They both laughed at the irony as John sat down beside her and put his arms around his family.

* * *

 

"Oh my God, thank you so much!" Clara thanked the neighbours as they agreed to watch over the kids for two hours.

John had said they wouldn't wake up until they got back, but Charlie had been having nightmares extremely often as of late. He was only three and he was always waking up for his Mummy in the night. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he realised he was alone and neither of his parents were there.

They had been given a call for a mission last minute and it was urgent. Clara had ran next door, saying that it was a family emergency and her Father had been in a car accident.

They had agreed to look after the kids for no charge as Clara and John got in their car racing off.

A Russian officer had leaked secrets to the British government in return for immunity and they had one hour before she would be picked up by MI6 and given a new identity. They had uncovered the whereabouts of her safe-house and John and Clara were the nearest agents in the vicinity.

They arrived outside the small apartment, going up the back outer- staircase and breaking into the apartment silently. Clara could hear a faint humming from the bedroom as she pulled out her gun by the bedroom door. They would wait for her to go into the living room before shooting.

Clara had trained with this specific officer, Anfisa Molokov, back in Russia. They had been comrades, although Clara had always been a better fighter. She was a good agent who worked in the embassy. Then, a year ago, she had gone off the grid.

The Russians had assumed she had either been captured or killed, but after an interception of a call between her and MI6, it turns out she had sold Russia out so she could live in England permanently.

As far as they knew, she hadn't only given up names of people who worked in the British embassy who were double crossing. This was a massive downfall to the KGB as they needed their informants in high positions alive and working for them. they needed to kill Molokov before she released any more vital information that could cost agents their lives.

John waited by the door to the apartment, making sure she couldn't do a run for it. From what they could tell, she had no gun in the apartment which meant there was no way she could fight them.

All at once, the door from the bedroom opened and Anfisa walked into the living room. Upon seeing the guns pointed at her face, she screamed and dived behind the sofa. Clara wrestled her to make sure she stayed quiet, slowly realising that the woman had pulled a knife out of somewhere.

She tried to stab Clara several times as Clara moved on top of her, pushing the gun away from shot. John closed in, attempting to shoot. He knew that he couldn't get a shot without hitting Clara too.

Clara jumped off the woman, the gun in her hands aimed at her head. She fired once as the woman rolled out of the way, the bullet scraping her temple.

She jumped back over the sofa and towards the bedroom once more. Clara had a clear shot of her head and without missing a centimetre, fired the gun, killing her flat. She fell onto the ground and Clara nodded over to John to signal that they should get out of there.

Clara had just begun wiping her prints of everything when a sharp cry pierced the air. Clara looked towards the bedroom upon instinct, John following suit.

She stood up slowly, carefully heading towards the room where the crying was coming from. As she walked in, a loud gasp escaped her mouth as her hearing had proved to be correct.

There, lying on the bed, was a tiny baby. It couldn't have been more than a few months old, if not a few weeks.

John entered the room after Clara, eyes wide at the realisation of what the cry was from.

That's when it all made sense to Clara. She had sold out the Russians to keep her baby safe. Clara swallowed down the sickening feeling in her stomach as she walked over to the child, over the Mother's dead body.

Clara rubbed the child's cheek gently, causing the crying to stop. She had bright blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that shone up at Clara.

The girl gurgled at Clara in response to her and Clara felt herself wanting to be sick. John walked over to her, trapping her shoulder. "Clara, we have to go now or MI6 will get us."

Clara was unable to take her eyes off the child as John tapped her once more. After a few failed attempts of getting through to her, John yanked Clara's arm away. "We have to go now Clara!"

Clara shook her head and shrugged him off. "We can't just leave the girl here! She'll be set into a home! It won't be right!" She silently pleaded John, her insides churning as she watched John screw up his face in confusion.

John shook his head in confusion. He was debating what to do in his head as Clara stared in shock at the child. She knew they couldn't leave the baby there. It wasn't the right thing to do.

"Fine! Just, come on!" John stumbled, running out of the room. Clara wasn't entirely sure what that meant on John's part but she picked up the child carefully and ran out of the room, leaving the child's things behind her.

John had quickly wiped down the knife in case of Clara's prints, before opening the window and climbing down onto the outer staircase. They snuck into their car silently, Clara grateful that the baby hadn't yet cried and was being rather quiet, so they hadn't been noticed.

The only sounds made in the journey back to the headquarters were Clara trying to soothe the child whenever she got restless and wanted her Mother. Each cry made Clara feel like she was being sliced with a knife in the gut.

Clara was reluctant to give the child to the officials, worried about what would happen to her. John managed to convince her it was for the best in the end, handing the child over to the Russians, who assured John that the baby would be taken back to the family in Russia. John wasn't entirely sure that was for the best and he hoped to God they wouldn't tell the infant's Grandparents that the reason their daughter had died was because she had been a traitor to the cause.

As Clara stormed out of the headquarters, Svetlana whispered to John, "She's getting soft. Happens to all. Watch out for her."

Her words angered John because he knew that any accusations of Clara not working properly could lead to her being moved divisions or taken back to Russia, and that was something he could never allow to happen.

Clara didn't speak to John as she got changed into her nightgown. She had thanked the neighbours immensely for their kindness, handing them some money for their help. She felt awful that they had given up their night so that she could commit a hit on a young woman.

John noticed how she spent much longer kissing the kids goodnight and reading them bedtime stories. She gave them each extra cuddles and sat back down with them each time they asked for more, which is why it took at least an hour before she got into the bedroom.

He was already lying in bed as Clara moved in alongside him. At first, she faced her body away from him . John could sense that she would turn around soon so remained on his back just in case.

His thought came true after fifteen minutes, as Clara turned around to face him. John turned onto his side and moved closer to her, wrapping one arm around her waist.

Clara nestled her head into John's neck and pulled him as close to her as possible. "Sorry about earlier." She mumbled slowly, tightening her grip around John's neck.

John held her closer, sensing that she needed it. "Don't worry about it."

John froze when he heard Clara's small sniffles. He leaned back to look at Clara. She had tears building up in her eyes and John cupped her face, wiping away one with his thumb as it fell to the pillow.

"Sorry..." Clara began, blinking a few times to stop the tears. "It's just that I...Back in that house, when I heard the baby cry, all I could hear was Heather and Charlie. I can't stop thinking about if something happened to us and they were sent back to Russia. Charlie's so young he wouldn't even remember us. That little girl will never know her Mum...because of me."

Another tear fell from Clara's eyes and John pulled her close to soothe her pain. "I know how you feel. I could see it in your eyes as you held the baby." Clara nodded softly, placing a few wet kisses John's shoulder before resting her head back on the pillow.

John leaned in to steal a few kisses, his hands going up to her hair as he tangled it in his fingers. Her lips were soft from her tears and John gently pushed at her shoulder so she fell onto her back into the pillow, him moving atop her. Clara smiled at him warmly before pulling him in for another kiss.

* * *

 

Clara had been waiting for John for a couple of hours. The kids were on her lap as they sat on the sofa together. It was ten at night and he still hadn't gotten home yet. Charlie had refused to sleep until he got back. She had no idea how the two of them were still up, but they had somehow managed to last that late.

John opened the door nervously, concerned of what he'd see there. He felt guilty for not at least calling Clara before he got home and he felt that way too. He was shot by a look of anger from Clara before the kids ran up to him, screaming for hugs.

He picked them up in his arms and walked over to the sofa. Clara had turned her head away in annoyance and John didn't blame her.

"Sorry." He murmured. "I got a call at work so I had to work late." Clara knew that meant he'd had a mission and she nodded. She understood that things were often last minute, but it had bad been a long day for her at her school and she had just wanted to sleep without the kids running riot because he wasn't there.

"Late work?" Clara asked, looking him in the eye so he understood her question. John nodded slowly and Clara smiled at him comfortingly. No wonder he looked so guilty. He always looked like a nervous wreck when he got back after sex missions, as if Clara would club him over the head for it.

Once they were in bed and the kids couldn't hear, Clara rolled over and pecked his lips gently. "Just call me if you can, okay?" She asked gently. John nodded in understanding. "You know how much I worry." Clara smiled, before turning back around and falling asleep.

John stared at his pillow in the dark, wondering if Clara knew just how sorry he really was for everything that had happened that day. Everything that had happened.

 

 


	14. Words of the Past

"Heather, for God's sake!" Clara shouted over the shouting as she turned around to see her eight year old daughter hit her younger brother. "Oh my God, what the hell?" She screamed upon seeing the physicality of the situation.

Clara marched from the door to the sofa and pulled her children apart as their fists collided. "Stop it! Right now this minute!" She shouted angrily, grabbing them both by the wrists. "Charlie, go and stand by the stairs right now this minute!"

The little boy stormed off grumpily and stood in her eye-line, his arms folded with a sour look on his face.

"Why did you hit your brother Heather?" Clara demanded, forcing the girl to look her in the eye.

"He started it! He hit me for no reason so I hit him back! It's so unfair, you always blame me because I'm older!" Heather shouted back, looking to the side as if she were about to cry. Clara choked down the comforting side of her that built up at seeing her child sad and persisted with the angry Mother.

"It may have been his fault Heather, but the fact is you are older so you should know better. You need to apologise to your brother." Clara stood back and pointed over to the child in the hallway.

Heather folded her arms and shut her lips tight. Clara raised her eyebrows and stared at her angrily. "We can stand here all day, but I will just take away all your video games until you apologise." Clara stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Heather jumped up immediately in what seemed like an internal debate. "Okay fine." She grumbled, looking over to Charlie. "Sorry Charlie for hitting you back after you were a pain in the ar-"

"Heather!" Clara shouted. "How do you know that word?" She knew she had picked it up from her and John, but she didn't exactly want her child saying words like that at school. It would raise eyebrows and cause issues that Clara honestly didn't have time to deal with. She had too much else going on in the evenings. She wasn't going on as many missions anymore, considering there wasn't much to do. The war was bound to end soon as it was getting stale, but as deep cover KGB agents, they were essential at staying in England in case a war did in fact break out as they would be the foot soldiers.

"Dad was saying it about something last night." Heather said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "Didn't know it would make you flip out so much."

Clara heaved a sigh and grabbed Heather's wrists as she tried to walk off. "That is enough with the attitude. Now apologise to your brother properly."

Heather groaned in frustration before walking over to the stairs to stand in front of Charlie. "I'm really sorry you're a big baby Charlie and that you insist of causing a fuss about everything." Heather looked over to her side to see her Mum glaring at her angrily. "And I'm sorry that I hit you." She mumbled under her breath.

Clara nodded at her in approval. "That's good enough. Now, pack your things for school." Heather ran off into the living room to pack her bags as Clara knelt down in front of the small boy.

"Heather tells me you hit her." Clara said sternly. "Why did you do that Charlie?"

Charlie's lip began to quiver and Clara knew that was his telltale sign that he was about to cry. Unluckily for Charlie, it was the sign that he was also faking it.

"Don't you dare begin to cry young man, now answer me." Clara demanded, making sure he looked her in the eye. Even as the boy began to cry, she somehow remained composed and maintained her eye contact.

"I'm sorry Mummy." He murmured in a teary voice. Clara nodded that she had gotten somewhere, thinking back on what Heather had said.

"Don't be sorry to me. Say sorry to your sister. You did hit her after all."

Charlie nodded and walked off into the living room, Clara shortly behind. He slowly paced up to his sister and said sorry in a quiet voice. Heather nodded arrogantly before storming out of the room. Clara heard the door slam shut and she shut her eyes in annoyance.

Heather would have got into the car. Charlie was still at the infant school but Heather was in her last year at junior school. It shocked Clara how quickly the girl had grown up.

Clara leaned down to kiss Charlie's forehead quickly, saying goodbye before she ran out of the front door and got into the car. She took Heather into school in the mornings and so she had a five minute drive to talk to her. As the car started, the two girls were silent.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you like that." Clara murmured. "It's just...I get really annoyed when you stress me out like that and as you're older, I expect that you wouldn't hit your brother." Clara swallowed her words at Heather's still-annoyed look. "But, what I mean to say is...I didn't mean to shout at you like that."

Heather looked over to Clara and put her hand over hers on the gear stick. "I know Mum."

She smiled at Clara, who smiled back happily. As they drove nearer to Heather's school, Clara began to slow down. She quickly found a place to park and turned off the engine, getting out of the car.

She walked the girl to the gates and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you honey." Clara whispered, giving her a small hug, patting her back comfortingly.

"Love you too Mum." Heather replied with a smile, walking off into the playground.

"Have a good day!" Clara shouted, hoping the girl heard it as she walked away. She walked back to the car slowly and waited a few minutes before turning on the ignition. She sometimes forgot how quickly the kids had grown up. she wore it had only been five minutes since she told John that she was pregnant with Heather. Time flew by so fast, yet Clara wanted it all to slow down so she could embrace the small moments and make them last forever.

* * *

 

Clara flopped her body down on her bed after the long day. She'd had the class from hell in her last period and she now was taking a very well deserved nap, in her opinion. After breaking up a fight between two boys over a piece of paper, once child had thrown chewing gum at her and another one had stuck a note on one student's back that said "kick me." Which meant, whenever anyone got out of their seats for anyone reason, they were kicking this poor child in the shins. Clara was glad she had caught it after only ten minutes as it could have got much, much worse.

She had to admit that she was blessed her children weren't as much of nightmares as this particular class. She swore they must have been sent from hell to test her because she'd never had such a horrible class before. They really pushed her over the edge and made her want to punch a wall, which wasn't helpful considering Clara had quite bad anger control. She was a loving, nice woman and completely considerate when it came to children, but she wouldn't put it past herself that she had considered putting a bullet in one or two of their head's. She wished she could tell them that she knew how to kill them in twenty-nine different ways and not leave a single trace that it was her, but she knew that she would probably be fired.

Clara sunk her head into her pillow and groaned loudly. After a few minutes, she heard some scuffling by her bed and a large, warm body lay down itself next to hers. John put his large hand on the back of Clara's neck and subtly brushed the hair away from her shoulder to lay out on the bed beside her. His lips slowly came down to meet the point between her shoulder and her neck, gently pressing soft kisses.

Clara groaned at the nice sensation. She turned onto her side to face john, his lips still continuing to kiss her neck. She shut her eyes in happiness and wrapped her arms around John's back. "How was work?" She whispered into his ear, gasping as John pressed his teeth down onto her skin lightly, marking her slightly.

John made a small sign of tiredness and Clara got the message. "How was your day?" He asked in reply, pulling back to kiss Clara's lips.

Clara responded slowly, smiling as she pulled back to reply to him. "I had my year nines. I want to actually slaughter them. What do you think will happen if I release cyanide gas into the air and lock the doors?" She murmured hopefully.

John chuckled under his breath and kissed her lips once for her joke. "I bet some teachers would kiss you from relief." He mumbled, smiling up at her. Clara laughed and gently prodded John in the stomach.

"Unfortunately, I would get fired and I really can't be bothered with the paperwork right now." She laughed. She pushed her lips back to John's for a few seconds. When she pulled back, she kept her lips next to his, their breaths intermingling.

"Charlie said that Heather hit him earlier. Everything okay?" John asked carefully. Upon seeing Clara's frustrated sigh, he knew that she had gone through a very long day.

"He probably didn't tell you that he hit Heather first then?" Clara muttered, resting her head against the pillow once more and shutting her eyes.

John smiled to himself and shook his head. "No, I think that detail managed to get lost along the way." Clara tutted in sleepiness and took a few deep breaths.

"Ugh, the kids will want me to cook dinner." Clara groaned, sitting up and moving out of John's arms. John lay on the bed still, pouting up at Clara.

"I'll make it. You sleep." John said kindly, getting out of the bed. He crossed the room over to Clara, who looked like she was about to collapse on her feet. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her forehead.

Clara hummed in approval and then shook her head slowly. "I promised Heather that I would make lasagne tonight and she said she only likes mine." Clara murmured.

John giggled in response. They'd discovered that there were two things that Clara could cook better. Lasagne and only on very rare occasion, Soufflés. She tended to cremate them even so which meant it was a very special occasion when one of them actually survived.

Clara turned around to kiss John one last time before taking his hand leading him downstairs. She was relieved to find the kids on the sofa, watching the TV peacefully. It would have been hell if she'd have had to deal with them fighting again.

She slowly got out all the things she needed to make lasagne as John walked over to the sofa to sit down with the kids, pulling Charlie onto his lap and wrapping an arm around Heather as they snuggled together. She smiled at the sight, beginning to make the food.

Once the food was made and prepared, Clara looked over to John. "John, did you get the post today?" She called. She waited a few moments before John waved his hand in the air.

"No, sorry!" He replied, clearly pre-occupied with whatever programme was on TV.

Clara tutted under breath, making her way to the front door to pick up the mail. She quickly scanned through the post. It was mostly bills and documents that she would have to pay and sign. She couldn't believe there was still more money to pay out. They weren't ever shot, but it just annoyed her whenever she received more letters. They reminded her that she still had things to pay out when it was the last thing she needed to think about after a long day's work. She sighed until she reached the bottom the pile of letters.

She stumbled as she realised that this one was addressed to Clara Oswald. She only ever got mail addressed to Clara Oswald when there was something important from the embassy. She'd only been given that name as a back up as her maiden name, considering she'd been a married woman since the moment she arrived in England.

Clara walked into the kitchen, putting the bills down on the side as she scanned the envelope with her eyes. Hesitantly, she ripped open the back of the paper and pulled out the contents slowly. There were several pieces of paper in there, wrapped up in one that had been typed. There others were all handwritten.

She pulled out the outer paper, scanning her eyes over it curiously.

_Clara, these are messages we have received at the embassy from your father over the years. As it has been nearly ten years, we decided it would be time to give you an update. Make sure these are burnt after you get them as they are in Russian. Many thanks, Svetlana._

Clara stumbled at the words and quickly unfolded the many pieces of old paper. There must have been at least nine letters in that list. She'd never even been given them.

John turned around to ask about what was in the mail, but he stalled as he saw Clara's shocked expression. She was looking at something she couldn't quite understand. He knew that much.

"Be right back." John murmured to Charlie, getting off the sofa and putting him back down in the spot John had just occupied. He carefully walked over to Clara as he watched her eyes scan over something hesitantly.

"Clara?" He asked warily, reaching out to her in concern. Clara looked up in shock, and bit her lip as she stumbled to think for something to say whilst the kids were in the room.

"Could you make sure the food comes out when the timer comes off. I'll just be in the bedroom." She said politely, walking past John quickly with the letters and up the stairs.

John stood by in confusion He would leave Clara to do whatever it was she needed to do and would go and check on her later.

* * *

 

It seemed later would be after he gave the kids dinner. He wasn't particularly hungry and he knew that Clara didn't care much for lasagne, and considering her earlier expressions, she wouldn't especially in this moment.

He slowly trailed himself up the stairs and walked along the corridor to their room. He knocked twice on the door so Clara would hear him before he came in. He then opened the door and slowly walked in, looking at Clara who was sat cross-legged on the bed.

Her eyes were trained on the pile of letters in front of her and John could see the tears stains that were still present on her rosy cheeks.

"Clara?" He asked gently, moving onto the bed to sit beside and put one arm around her shoulder comfortingly. Clara seemed to visibly relax in his arms and she leaned her head onto John's shoulder as he made himself more comfortable. John looked down at the letters and soon realised that they were written in Russian. "What are these Clara?" He asked tentatively, pointing down towards the letters.

Clara swallowed the massive swell in her throat that was restricting her from saying anything. "They're..." She began, struggling to make a sound. "They're letters, from my father. He has been sending to the embassy every year and they haven't even given them to me."

John looked over to Clara and he knew from her face that whatever had been in the letter had seriously pained her from the fact that they'd kept it away from her. Clara choked on a sob as john wrapped both his arms around her small body and crushed her face into his chest.

"What did they say?" He asked quietly, kissing her head every few seconds as she allowed two more tears to stream down her cheeks.

Clara smiled slightly as she thought through what she'd read. "They've been sending him pictures of our family every year. He said that our children are beautiful and that you look like a nice man. He said he would love to meet you one day He talk about how I look so much like my Mother. He even sent a picture of her to prove it to me. And he...he told me that my Grandma passed away four years ago. We were always so close when I was a kid and...I never even thought about her. What does that say about me? I haven't even thought about my father much. He said that he thinks about me every single day and he misses me so much, and I've been an awful daughter. I should have been there for him. I should have..." Clara collapsed her words as the tears took over her once more.

John rubbed his hand up and down Clara's back as her shoulders gently shook. "I'm sorry." She whispered into his chest.

"Why are you sorry?" He replied, kissing her head once more. Clara chuckled lightly under her breath.

"Because you always put up with all my emotional crap." She replied honestly. "I'm crying over something I made the decision to do. I always cry on you over stupid things."

John shook his head in small amusement. "I'm your husband. Part of the job description."

Clara closed her eyes and buried her face further into John's warmth. "Is it? I didn't realise it was."

John smiled and pulled back to stare Clara in the eye as his hands cupped her face in a loving embrace. "Maybe it's just because I do special things for the most beautiful woman I know."

Clara turned her eyes to the side and laughed at his words. "Nice work suck up." She mumbled. "Thanks for this. I just...It made me think of the kids and how much I want my Dad to meet them. It would mean so much to me if one day, they could find out the truth."

John looked down and rubbed his eyes. "They would hate us if they found out the truth Clara. They can't ever know."

Clara looked up to John in understanding and lay back down onto the bed as she shut her eyes. The crying had drained what was left of her energy. John lay down beside her and kissed her shoulder. "Why don't you read them to me?" John asked lovingly, reaching between them bodies to grab the letters.

Clara nodded hesitantly as John handed her the letters. She looked through them, beginning to speak in a hushed whisper in case the kids came in.

She read out all of the things to John, losing her voice at points. Each time, John would gently caress her arm or kiss her forehead until she found it within her to carry on.

John didn't have any family back home, so he didn't know what it was like for Clara. But what he did know was how he would feel if he ever had to leave his family. If he ever had to lose Clara or Heather or Charlie for any reason at all it would destroy him. He was sure of it. That's why he held Clara the tighter and didn't care that she was crying on him. He loved her and he would do anything to keep her next to him for as long as possible, whether that be in England or in Russia.

Clara eventually fell asleep in John's arms. He left the bed, allowing her to get a good few hours rest as he went to join the kids once more.

On the way, he picked up the picture of Clara's mother. She had truly looked a lot like Clara. They could have been sisters in that photo, and it was clear that Clara knew that. John knew that Heather would probably look that way one day too. She was already a mini version of her Mum, just a little bit taller. Charlie was more of a mix of the two. He had the rocket-fin ears which Clara teased John relentlessly for, and his chin was slightly larger than Heather's, which John also found adorable. But he had Clara's slightly turned up nose and her warm brown eyes that he found so endearing.

This was his family .They weren't normal at heart and they may have not been the best family, but they were his and that was what mattered. As long as he was alive, they held a place in his hearts and that was all that mattered to him.


	15. The Poet's Last Bow

"John, have you seen Heather's medical card?" Clara shouted through to the living room, frantically rummaging through the drawers of old papers that had stacked up over the years.

"Errm, no!" A distant voice shouted back, clearly busied with making sure the kids were ready for school. They had at least a good ten minutes yet, but something always made them late.

Clara groaned as she moved down into the next drawer to search for the documents. Heather was going on a trip to the national history museum the next week, but they needed her medical card number before they would allow her on the trip in case of accidents.

There were so many papers filling up the drawers; random documents that John and Clara had kept, such as bills and random letters that might be useful in the future. At first it had been to prove that they were British citizens, but now it was simply from habit and from not wanting to throw away any important documents that might be needed in the future.

No-one went into this small chest of drawers usually because it was so messy, but sometimes important things called for them to go searching and usually they got lost within it.

"John, could you help me please?" Clara shouted back, growing frantic and frustrated that she couldn't find the card. The last thing she need that day was to trek to the Doctor's clinic during her lunch hour and prove her identity before getting the damn medical card number and making them issue a new one. They'd already had to do that for Charlie, which was an achievement considering he was only six years old.

"Give me a minute!" He shouted back carelessly, causing Clara to mumble curse words towards him under her breath. She didn't much care for this kind of chaos in the early mornings. It was far too frantic.

"John!" she cried out once more, hoping for a reply. This time she was greeted with silence and she punched the papers around her in annoyance. John was a great husband but extremely useless half of the time.

She opened the final drawer down and started rummaging through the many folders. It seemed this drawer was slightly more organised and Clara hoped that she would actually have some luck with finding what she needed. The folders all had labels on, most of them stating certain words. Some were just general documents, such as birth certificates or photographs and some mission documents.

She opened the birth certificate folder, hoping to find what she needed. She wanted to scream out once more when it wasn't in there, pushing her hair out of her face harshly as she shoved the folder back and pulled out a few more.

Each folder came out with the same impact, never giving a result. She was prepared to give up upon opening the final folder, where it had no likelihood of being. This was just a folder full of letters from random people as fake documents in case of a needed back up plan. As she scanned her eyes over the documents quickly, she noticed the few pages of dirtied paper.

She pulled them out delicately, holding the three letters in her hand. Upon pulling them out, she knew that the letters were in Russian and that she had definitely never seen them before. John surely would have told her if he'd been given letters in Russian, surely?

"Clara, need any help?" John finally shouted, walking towards the room. Clara quickly folded up the papers and shoved them into her bag which was situated beside her. She wasn't sure what had caused her to do it at the time, but she needed to know why her husband would hide them from her.

"Yeah please." Clara smiled softly as John entered the room, finishing off the remnants of his toast. He knelt down on the floor beside her and opened the top drawer once more, scanning through.

"John, I've checked, it's not in-" Clara stopped mid-sentence as John held out the medical card with Heather's name on to her. She gave him a look of annoyance as he smirked cockily, quirking his eyebrows at her. "Shut up." She mumbled under her breath, aggravated that she had spent so long looking for something in plain sight.

John left the room after kissing Clara on the cheek, shouting at the kids to get into the car for school. She sighed, all earlier things forgotten, and left the room in a heap of mess. She would clean it up later.

* * *

 

Clara dropped her keys on the kitchen counter as the kids ran up to their bedrooms. She sighed as she looked at the clock. It hadn't even gone four yet, and John wasn't going to be back for at least an hour. She looked around to think of something which she occupy herself with for an hour.

As she thought, Clara emptied out the remainders of her lunch from her handbag and shoved them in the fridge to make sure it was still edible the next day.

She pulled a few more loose items out of her bag, trying to put some order into the rubbish tip that she carried around with her everyday. There were drawing that Charlie had done for her in there, along with poems from Heather. She smiled at each one, putting them in a pile to stick on the fridge. The fridge was practically full all of the time nowadays, but Clara didn't care. She loved to see their faces light up when they realised that she'd actually admired their hard work.

As she pulled out the next few papers, a sudden thought struck her again and she remembered what she had found that morning.

Examining the letters in her hands, Clara sat down by the table and blocked out all thoughts that crossed her mind.

Clara flinched upon seeing the word "Doctor" used in the letters. It only took her a few seconds to know that they were from John's ex "River."

It made her feel uncomfortable to know that he'd hidden these from her, but she guessed that they were from long ago. It shouldn't really bother her that much, should it?

At least, she hadn't expected the letters to feel too close to home. She was mentioned in them, and the kids, which meant they were more recent than that. The first letter was simply exchanging contacts, catching up with life.

It was clear that this was John's ex getting back in contact with him, not the other way around.

The second letter was much more personal though. The tone changed significantly and Clara got the feeling that it was almost flirting, tempting in a way. It definitely wasn't appropriate for a married man in the slightest.

It made Clara's skin crawl and her blood grow hot in her veins. She wanted to punch this woman. Why would she be so arrogant. John should have been a part of her past. She must have known as well as anyone, if she was in the KGB, that John needed to leave Russia behind.

The end of the letter made Clara's heart stop as she read over the small details. They were a time and place. What kind of a person left a time and place in a letter, unless they wanted you to meet them? Why would that woman want to meet John?

Clara's resentment towards this woman grew stronger with each second, even though she knew that she had no right to be angry. After all, it is John's past and it was his love in some ways. She couldn't expect him to forget about it all of the time and only focus on her. She wanted him to, but she knew that she probably shouldn't.

With shaking hands, Clara read the last letter carefully.

'Dear Doctor, I understand what you meant the other night. That was a big mistake.'

What mistake? Why had John mad a mistake? Clara's breathing stopped and she blinked twice before reading on.

'What you said about Clara and the children made me think. Your family must really matter to you and I don't want to ruin that for you.'

The words sounded far too apologetic for Clara's liking; too guilty. In her head she knew what was coming next. She just didn't want to believe it.

'I'm sorry for asking you to meet me. I should have thought about your relationship before I did that. What you said, about actually loving Clara, struck me, and I'm sorry for what we did. It was wrong for you and for your wife. I didn't realise you actually cared for her.

So, Doctor, I will leave this as the final farewell.'

Clara's throat constricted and she sat back in her chair slowly. John wouldn't do that. She knew him far too well for that, he simply wouldn't...would he?

She looked at the last letter one more time and double checked the date. Three years ago.

It was dated only three years ago.

Clara thought back to that year, when on Earth it could have happened. It then struck her that she didn't know. They went out on mission all the time, she'd never have known if he was truly on a mission or seeing someone else.

This could have gone on for months, and then he'd come home and kiss her goodnight and lead her on like some sort of fool. Well, not now. She was sick of being made to look stupid. She refused to allow John, of all people in the world, to make her feel like an idiot too.

Clara made the kids dinner early, being as cheerful as she could be. It didn't escape the children's notice that she looked sad, but then, there was nothing they could do about it. They knew better than to ask more than once if she was okay and they both decided that it would be best to leave her alone.

Heather wasn't stupid. She knew that something was up when Clara flinched at the mention of the word "Daddy." She always seemed to smile when Heather usually said that. Clara knew they could see the tears building up in her eyes as she stared at them.

These were the children who John had promised to bring up with her; who he had left one night to have sex with another woman.

Sure, Clara and John had sex with other people all the time, but that was for the job. this felt more personal, it was too personal. He'd done it out of love for another woman, and that was the breaking point. Clara thought, no, she knew, that John loved her. But, it turned out that he loved someone else too and that she could never trust him.

They had been down roads like this way too many times before, finally getting somewhere then falling a million steps back down the ladder. Each and every time it was because one of them screwed up or said something and then they realised that maybe their love wasn't as strong as they'd thought it was before.

Clara was sat on the sofa when the door opened, the letters firmly in her hand as she tried to stop her tear ducts from building up. She had to remain emotionless. If she let her emotions get the better of her, then he would just pity her and do it again. She had sent the children upstairs first, unwilling for them to hear the guaranteed fight about to occur. It was clear that John was oblivious to what was about to happen as he called her name cheerily, sounding like he always did. Clara wanted to punch him for that. How had he deceived her like this, every day for three years?

"Clara?" John asked as he walked into the sitting room, realising Clara's still position. "Are you okay?" He asked gently, hand coming on top of hers in a concerned manner. Clara could see the black of his bow tie in her eyes, but she refused to make eye contact with him; couldn't make eye contact with him. She knew it would make her snap and she was extremely proud of herself when she managed not to cry.

"No." She said simply, moving away from John's comforting stance to stand opposite him.

"Love?" He asked softly, stepping forward to embrace her one more time.

Clara wanted to spit at him for even calling her a pet name. As she turned her body towards his, eyes finally meeting, John saw the redness around her eyelids and he knew that something was very wrong.

"Don't call me that, don't even think of calling me that." Clara spat, trying her hardest not to shriek in case she made the kids upset.

John looked around in confusion, unsure of what it was he had done. His lips where pursed as he tried to form a sentence, making out his innocence. all words dried on his lips though when he saw the old and dusty letter in Clara's hand.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. How had he forgotten to burn those? He was meant to have burnt them. John looked from Clara's hurt expression to the letters and took a steady breath.

"Look, Clara I..." John started, unsure of what there was her could say without it sounding like an excuse. In honesty, there was nothing he could say without being an excuse.

"Don't you dare." She whispered, voice cracking on the final syllable. She paused to keep her facade up as hard as she could, even though she knew that it's foundations were crumbling by the second and she didn't have long left before it all came crashing down in a wave.

John rubbed his eyes with his hands as he tried to think of something, anything, he could say which would stop the inevitable fight, that was about to happen, from coming. "I'm sorry." He muttered, his eyes facing his feet.

The faint sound of angry footsteps warned John that Clara was approaching and it didn't shock him at all when he felt Clara's hand collide with his cheek, sending his body twisting sideways.

"You bastard." Clara whispered in disgust at him, tears building a trench within her eyes, about to fall and bring down all her defences with them.

John would rather have Clara screaming at him. The silence was one of disappointment and resentment and it made his body ache with hurt. It was like mental rejection. There was no warmth in her approach, no love or anger. Nothing he could retaliate on. It was pure anger and heartbreak.

The fact that she wasn't trying to conceal the latter made his heart split in two. He could see on her face how much she had been hurt.

"We go out on missions all the time, I don't understand how this is any different." John murmured, immediately regretting his words the moment they left his mouth.

Clara stood, her shoulder shaking as she struggled to hold in the sobs of hurt and anger with John. "You don't understand." She gasped in-between breaths, stating the fact with a pained expression on her face. "Well maybe that's why you're such a Fucking dickhead!" The last two words were screamed out, Clara voice straining on each word.

The contrast in Clara's behaviour made John flinch as he watched her emotionally collapse beside him, and he could do nothing. He couldn't hold her as she cried or pick up the pieced for her, not this time. Because, this time, it was his fault; his responsibility. I wasn't thinking right, I'm so sorry, I-" John mumbled, desperate to make Clara forgive him. All attempts were useless though, and he knew that the moment he began.

"How long?" Clara asked, praying that the answer wasn't going to break her even more.

John swallowed the lump in his throat. "It was one time." John muttered, looking down to his feet. "I hadn't thought it through, I didn't think when I did it how it would affect you or..."

"It's not about that!" Clara screamed. "It's the fact that you didn't even consider us until afterwards!" She took a few shallow breaths, evening out her shaky voice. "You didn't even think about your children. Your own children."

The silence that followed that statement stung like a sore thumb and it made John somehow feel even worse than before.

"Do you even love us?" Clara asked quietly, so much broken hope in her voice that it was hard for John not to cry.

"Of course I do. How could you even ask that? Why would you even think that?" John gasped, hurt at the concept that his family wasn't the most important thing in the world to him.

Clara shook her head and walked past him quickly, stopping at the door to the living room and turning around to face him again. "I don't know. I'd never thought that you would lie to me about something like this, but I guess I was wrong."

Clara felt like John had taken her heart in his hands and prodded at it mercilessly, never giving her relief of breaking it, so she had to endure more and more suffering.

"I don't care what the time is, I'm going to bed." Clara stated, her voice piercing the deathly silence like a knife. "And I want you to find somewhere else to sleep, because I can't even stand to look at your face right now. Fuck that, I could even stand to be near you." She spat, turning away and walking up the stairs.

Heather was stood in the doorway to her bedroom, tears in her eyes as she stared up at her Mum. She'd clearly hear the shouting and she had seen the many tears on Clara's cheeks. Without saying a word, Clara picked up the little girl and carried her into her room. She could hear Charlie's door shut as he followed behind her and she pulled them into her chest as she silently cried herself to sleep, making sure her children was as close as possible.

* * *

 

Tom knew something was wrong with Clara the moment she walked into school. She looked tired and upset. Her eyes were red from tears, despite the amount of eyeliner she had put on to cover it up.

She looked worse than he'd ever seen her before, even eight years before when she had lost her baby.

He didn't want to bother her, but there was know way he would allow her to suffer in silence. She was his best friend and he had always been there to pick up the pieces for her when she was down. Today wasn't going to be the day that changed.

He walked into her classroom at lunchtime, knocking gently on the door before he approached.

Her head was in her arms and he could see that she wasn't crying, but she looked just as bad as if she were and it was clear that it was taking everything in her not to.

"Clara?" He asked gently, sitting down opposite her. Clara's head lifted up off the table and it only took a few moments of Clara looking at Tom before she dissolved into tears.

Tom had his arms around her in a flash, pulling her into a hug as she cried onto his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" He soothed, hoping to provide at least a small amount of comfort for the friend he valued above anything else.

Her sobs shook her body and Tom waited for a while before she was able to choke out the word "John."

Tom rubbed her back soothingly. "What is it? What's John done?" He asked quickly, thinking of the worst. Had he died or had something happened to him? He'd never seen many people as close as they were and he was sure that it would ruin Clara if he died.

"He cheated on me."

It was worse than he'd thought in some ways. Clara was devoted to that man and he had wrecked their love. Tom didn't push Clara any further. There was nothing more she needed to say. He held her as he cries died down. She needed to calm herself before any of the students saw her in that state.

Clara tried to make some words come out of her mouth, but everything was a choked cry and she looked to Tom for help, silently pleading him to rescue her from the darkness she had fallen into.

"Take the afternoon off." Tom decided finally, taking Clara's hand in his as she used the other to wipe her wet eyes. "Take the afternoon off, get the kids and come and stay at mine."

Clara stared at Tom in shock. "But...they have to be at school back on Monday, they can't..."

"I can take them to school." Tom suggested. "Just, pack their things and say it's a holiday. I have a spare room with a double bed for the kids and you can take my room."

Clara opened her mouth to object, but Tom placed his finger over her lips. "No buts', just do it." He commanded, nodding sympathetically to her.

"Oh, god thank you!" Clara gasped, standing up from her seat abruptly, hugging her thanks to him. She'd had no idea before just how much she needed to get away from John for a while.

Tom pushed her off gently. "Go, get the kids. Take them out of school early and I'll meet you at mine at four? If I'm not there, there's a key under the doormat."

Clara wiped her eyes once more rapidly, thanking Tom as she nodded, grabbing her bag and leaving the classroom.

* * *

 

Heather and Charlie were confused to say the least. They couldn't understand why they had to leave school early. Clara tried to tell them that it was a surprise, but Heather knew better than that.

She tried not to make her Mum angry even so, so kept her mouth shut. She didn't say anything when Clara told Charlie that they were going on a holiday to Tom's house for a bit and that Daddy couldn't come with because of work.

Clara ran upstairs and pulled out three suitcases from under her bed. She packed her own clothes quickly, making sure that there was enough for work the next week and the weekends. She wanted to be out of there as soon as she could be. She just needed space from the ever-closing walls that locked her up in this little world that wasn't really hers. This life, that had never truly belonged to her.

She packed Charlie's suitcase and then packed the rest of Heather's, making sure that she had school uniform in there as well as other essentials.

By the time it turned two-thirty, Clara had the kids and bags in the car, waiting to go.

She ran back inside to get the her keys, locking the house quickly as tears built up in her eyes once more. The moment she heard his voice from a small distance behind her, Clara froze.

She locked up and turned to face the man running up the drive "Clara, what the hell is going on?" He shouted, pointing towards the car. "Why aren't the kids in school? Why aren't you? Where are you going?"

Clara shook her head an walked past him, ignoring his panicked words. He grabbed her wrist tightly, but not enough to hurt, spinning her back around to face him. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp in pure hate as she faced him once more.

"Away. And don't ask for how long because you have no right. I'll call you on Monday." Clara said angrily, walking away towards the car.

John ran after her, Clara getting in the drivers' seat quickly and turning on the ignition.

"Clara, you can't take the away from me!" He screamed, running after the car as she pulled hastily out of the driveway. "Clara!" He cried, watching them as his family drove away. Charlie looked out of the back window, confused to why his Daddy was crying about them going on holiday.

John collapsed on the pavement of the driveway as the car drove out of sight. He could see the neighbours watching from their windows out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn't care. He sobbed into his hands, letting out a cry of anger and frustration.

* * *

 

"Thank you so much Tom." Clara murmured as he handed her a cup of tea. The children had gone to bed long before, questioning why Daddy was crying so much insistently. She'd eventually told them that he was sad they had to go on holiday without him, because of work. She knew Heather didn't believe her, but there was nothing else she could do.

She was sat on the sofa in her pyjamas, head resting against Tom as she finally found some peace and quiet. "No problem." He mumbled under his breath.

Clara shut her eyes slowly or a few moments to revel in the comfort of her best friend beside her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tom asked gently, hand coming up to rub Clara's back. "Properly, talk about it?" He added, so she understood his point.

Clara wanted so desperately to tell Tom everything. She wanted to scream to the world about how mad she was, but she couldn't. Not without saying something that would compromise their assignment. Everything in her whole life was about the bloody job, because in the end, that was her life. The life that she had built for herself was all some stupid way of hiding the horrible truth about her real identity.

The hesitation in Clara's answer told Tom that she really did and he leant in to listen more. "Tell me." Tom said simply.

Clara shook her head, a ghostly smile appearing on her face. "It's not all that simple." She said hesitantly.

"It could be if you told me the truth about what's going on." Tom murmured. He looked around for a few moments as Clara kept silent, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "Okay, enough with this Clara. For years I have seen you come into work looking sad, never telling me the whole truth. You constantly look run down and it always has something to do with John, but that doesn't ever make any sense. I want to help you Clara, but how can I if you never tell me the truth? I'm your best friend for goodness sake, what can be so bad that you'd hide it from me?" Tom asked seriously, leaning in with concern painted all over his features.

Clara opened her mouth slowly, her voice catching in her throat. "Believe me, you don't want to know." She muttered, hoping he'd leave it there. Her walls were thin at the moment and she knew that she would crack if he pressed on.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. Come on Clara, we've known each other nine years. Just tell me what it is." Tom begged, grasping her hands in his.

Clara looked around and closed her eyes. "You'll hate me" She admitted in a whisper, knowing that the crack was coming and soon he would never speak to her again. The one secret she had done so well to hide was going to ruin her and she could feel it building up inside her, preparing to be told to the only person she had left.

"I could never hate you." Tom murmured. "I could never hate you Clara."

She shook her head slowly, tears forming in the bottom of her eyes once more. "You will." She nodded her head quickly, gasping shortly for a quick breath of air.

Tom shook his head insistently. "Clara, just tell me the truth. I won't hate you, I promise!"

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. She had to say it now, there was no way she couldn't.

"I..." She began, stumbling on her words. "I'm a...I'm not...My name really is...Lilja. Lilja Kurotkov." She spoke slowly, testing Tom's reaction.

At first his brow furrowed in confusion, and then some more.

"I don't...understand. Clara, what are you talking about?" Tom asked quietly. He knew. Inside, he somehow knew what she was going to say.

"I'm not called Clara." She whispered, tears falling over her cheeks. "That name was made up. I'm really called Lilja Kurotkov." Tom pulled back from Clara and her eyes darted down to her knees in shame." I come from Russia and I work for the KGB."

Tom's expression was one of shock. Clara couldn't bring herself to face him, but she knew she had to carry on. Now she'd started, she couldn't stop.

"I'm on a top secret mission with one other agent. We were brought here as a married couple so we would blend in. We were taught perfect English and made the perfect Brits. Everything in my life is controlled by them. They told me when to have kids, they told me when to get a job."

Tom looked over to Clara who was somehow managing to make out her sentences in-between heavy tears that were painting her cheeks in hidden sorrow.

"And my kids don't even know. I leave them home alone almost every night so I can go out and...do missions. I get information for the Russians, I lie and hurt and maim and...kill."

The last word was on a choke and it made Tom's whole body shake. Clara wasn't a killer. He'd have known if Clara was a killer.

"And I don't know why I'm so upset with John." She cried. "I mean, we have sex with loads of people all the time, it's not a big deal. It's just knowing that it wasn't for the job, he chose to do it...it hurts. And I have no fucking right to be angry with him because I'm just as bad."

Tom shook his head as Clara's voice raised, her sorrow escalating to a higher point.

"He's had to listen and watch me have sex with random men and women and all he ever does is hold me and make sure I'm okay, and all I ever do is make him feel like shit. I'm an awful person."

Tom leant forward and pulled up Clara's head. Her eyes met his and she was shocked that he wasn't staring at her in disgust. He was looking at her like he always did, like a friend.

"You are not an awful person. You're the best person I know." Tom soothed. Carrie shook her head at him once more and wrenched away from his grasp.

"I've killed people Tom." She said quietly. "You've only ever done good things in your life and I have killed people. More people than I would care to think about more people than I would care to count."

"I don't care." Tom said slowly, watching Clara's reaction as she turned around shocked.

"What?" She asked in slight shock, slight mocking. She was sure he had to be an idiot if he still wanted to be her friend. "Tom, I have lied to you for nine years. Why would you still want to even look at me? I'm a monster Tom! I've single-handedly been one of the main reasons the British still haven't won the war."

"Clara, listen to me carefully." Tom said slowly, grabbing her hands and pulling her back to him. "I. Don't. Care. I don't care about any of that. You're still the same old Clara." He whispered.

He kissed her wet cheek sympathetically before pulling her into a hug. Clara was shocked to say the least. It took her a few minutes to comprehend that Tom didn't care about who she really was.

"I should really kill you now that you know." Clara tried to laugh half-heartedly in an attempt to make a poor joke. She knew that her voice was stale, but Tom still chuckled.

"I can't see your gun anywhere." He replied cheekily, squeezing Clara tighter in their friendly embrace.

Clara smiled slowly into his neck. "I can kill you eleven different ways from this position alone." She whispered.

Tom knew she was joking from the small laugh she gave into his ear, but he wasn't willing to question whether she generally did know eleven ways to kill him in a hug.

"I don't care." Tom repeated, making sure Clara understood. "I don't care who you are or what you've done. Tell me something in Russian?."

Clara pulled back from the hug slowly, looking down to her feet. "Umm..." She began, unsure of what she wanted to say to Tom. "ty moy luchshiy drug" She whispered.

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, eyes light with wonder.

"You're my best friend Tom." She admitted slowly, voice shaking.

"And I'm always here to listen to what you need to say." Tom finished off, smiling at Clara comfortingly. She suddenly realised that it didn't matter who she really was. He would still be her friend when she needed him there.

"John he, he had this...ex. They knew each other back in Moscow." Clara began to explain, glancing up at Tom every few seconds to see he understood. "And about three years ago, they met up here and he...well, he..."

Clara shut her eyes tight at the notion and Tom rubbed her shoulder, telling her that he understood what she was trying to tell him.

"And then I found the letters in Russian and...it hurt. God, it hurts so much. I finally thought he loved me." Clara whispered.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked gently, careful not to push Clara too far. She was clearly in a emotional state.

Clara cleared her throat after the long constriction from the tears. "Well...When I came to England, I was nineteen years old. I was married to a man who I'd never met before and it a strange country speaking a foreign language with different ways of living. At first, I never loved him properly."

Clara started to fiddle with her fingers, taking her concentration away from Tom to avoid the awkward tension in the room. "And then...after the baby we, we kind of worked it out. And I...I was so fucking stupid, I fell in love with the man. I should never have done that, I was weak. Always so bloody weak, always too weak. I was never strong enough to stand on my own two feet, never good enough to fight them all away."

Tom didn't understand what she was on about now, although, neither was Clara entirely either. But Tom didn't need to know. Not everything. There were some things that should remain unsaid.

"You are not weak." Tom insisted reassuringly in Clara's ear. hands cupping her face. "You. Are. Not. Weak. So don't you ever think that. It's John's fault for hurting you. Don't let him hurt you. You're perfect as you are."

Clara looked up slowly, hesitating on her thoughts.

In a blink, her lips were crashing onto tops, forcing his apart in ruthless embrace. Tom leant back shocked, but allowed her hands to roam as they wished.

He wasn't stupid. He could tell that this wasn't for love or lust. This was purely out of comfort and the need to know that someone was there for her. In a matter of seconds, Clara pushed tom back onto the sofa.

She knew she would regret it later, but she didn't care. She needed to feel something other than guilt or sorrow or hate or heartbroken, and Tom was just...there.

She kept telling herself that she didn't care as she removed her clothes, allowing Tom to take charge. She kept telling herself that she didn't care as he pushed into her, kissing her softly. She told herself, over and over, that it meant nothing and she didn't care as their bodies moved together. An when he finished, she told herself it meant nothing at all to her.

And she knew it meant nothing, because even after all of that, she could still only think about John.


	16. Walls of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse all mistakes you see. I'm tired and my fingers can barely move, or my eyes stay open!

The first thing Clara felt was the cool breeze blowing over her naked body. It made her skin shiver and she clung tight to the blanket which now hung around her. She wasn't quite sure when that had been given to her, but she revelled in it's warmth.

Sitting up on the sofa, Clara looked around towards Tom's kitchen where she could hear faint noises. Memories of the night before came crashing into her head all at once and she had to taken a moment so that she could pause and sort out whatever mess was going on in her head.

Clinging to the blanket, Clara stood up and walked to the kitchen slowly, examining her surroundings. It was still dark outside, although there were hints of the sun on the horizon as dawn began to make it's appearance.

Clara found it funny how so much could happen during the night-time, but during the light, everyone feels untouchable. It was some sort of natural comfort that came from human instinct. The darkness meant vulnerability, and that's the one thing no-one ever wants to be.

She paced into the room, her bare feet sticking to the cold tiles on the floor. She smiled as she saw Tom stirring two cups of tea. "Sleep well?" He asked casually, turning around to face her with a mug extended towards Clara. She lifted her arm to take it, quickly remembering that it was the only thing holding her blanket up and smiling awkwardly at Tom.

"It's fine." He laughed reassuringly, "I'll carry it through for you." Tom walked past Clara into the living room and sat down on the sofa, Clara sitting beside him with her legs crossed awkwardly.

"What time is it?" Clara mumbled through her yawn, looking around for some sort of clock somewhere.

Tom pointed behind Clara to the clock that was quietly ticking on the wall. "Nearly six. Sorry I woke you." He looked down to his feet guiltily, not helping to relieve the awkward tension in the room much.

Clara smile as she looked down to her feet. "The kids will be up soon anyway. Might as well just wait now." She muttered. Her hand reached out to Tom's knee to show that she wasn't trying to be rude.

At the same time, they both looked up and gave each other unsure grimaces.

"Look about last night-" Tom started, blurting it out first in a quick haste.

"It was a mistake." Clara finished, nodding to herself. She sighed into her hands and rubbed her eyes to avoid making more eye contact momentarily. "I shouldn't have used you like that."

Tom shook his head, smiling comfortingly towards her. He extended his hand and gently stroked her shoulder, the feeling soothing and friendly. "I didn't exactly stop you though, did I?" Tom smirked, hoping to get a smile out of Clara.

Clara smiled to herself about the events that happened the night before. She remembered crying on Tom about her job and then it hit her that she'd told him everything. He knew absolutely everything. There was no escaping it now. She was done for.

"Oh God, you must think I'm such a mess." Clara groaned in self-hatred, praying that Tom would say something to her about never seeing each other again. "You find out some random shit about me and then I jump you. Really helping my own case here, aren't I?"

Tom chuckled lightly and opened up his arms, pulling Clara into his chest. This hug felt just like it always did with Tom; friendly and comforting and everything she needed from a friend. Nothing more.

"I don't, don't worry." He reassured, rubbing her back lightly. "And...you don't need to worry abut me forming some emotional attachment to you." He said unsurely, questioning what reaction Clara would give.

She furrowed her brow and pointed her head up towards him. "Why not?" She asked curiously, then blushing a deep red. "Oh God, I didn't...I mean, I didn't mean...That's not what I...!" She stumbled for words, looking lost as she tried to make sure he knew that she meant that in the least cockiest way.

Tom smiled once more and rubbed her back again. "Well I..." He began slowly, carefully wording his explanation so Clara wouldn't flip out. "I kind of swing the other way." He mumbled.

It was barely audible but Clara definitely heard it, her eyes widening in shock. The realisation of why Tom had never tried anything on her before hit in a shock wave and her mouth dropped open. It turned out that she wasn't the only one holding secrets from her best friend after all.

"Oh. Oh shit." She gasped, leaning away from him and peering at his face awkwardly. "I basically forced you to have sex with me and you don't even like...well, that kind of thing." Clara blushed immensely. Her embarrassment overrode her reactions, but only from what had happened the night before.

"I didn't tell you because..." Tom said uncertainly, "Because, I didn't want you to think any less of me."

Clara leaned forward and furrowed her brow in mass confusion. "How could I ever think any less of you Tom?" She asked seriously, hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're my best friend. Nothing you do or say is going to change that."

She placed a kiss on his cheek lovingly, before embracing him in a tight hug. Tom returned it, slowly at first, but gradually getting tighter and tighter until he was squeezing so hard, Clara couldn't breathe.

Upon hearing her gently teasing wheezing noises, Tom pulled back with a huge grin on his face. "So yeah, that's kinda why I didn't...um..." He flashed a small smile once more, testing Clara's facial expressions.

"That makes a bit of sense." She admitted, half to herself, as she busied her fingers with the blanket that was only just covering her.

Looking around at her surroundings once more, Clara thought towards the children that would awake at any moment. "I...umm, I need to get dressed before the kids see me like this." Clara stuttered trying not to be rude but to show her urgency that the children should never know about what had transpired between her and her best friend.

"Oh, yeah! Of course, no sure. Go." Tom smiled, standing up off the sofa and extending a hand to Clara to help her up. She took it gingerly and smiled towards him, before rushing up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as she could so she could get dressed soon.

Tom and Clara agreed that they wouldn't mention what had happened between them to anyone. Unless it was Clara telling John, which they had both decided would have to happen. They couldn't allow her to go around and pretend like everything was okay when she was harbouring secrets too. She would just feel like a hypocrite all of the time, and it wouldn't be fair on John if they got back together.

The other agreement was that Tom would keep his mouth shut about the Russian thing. He'd taken slight offense that she'd needed to even ask that of him, but she needed to be sure that her cover wasn't going to be blown. If someone found out at the English didn't kill her, then the Russians definitely would and it was just safer for all parties involved if they made sure they would keep their silence about everything they'd told each other.

* * *

 

Sunday night rolled around quickly and Clara dreaded the moment she would have to call John. She was planning on doing it at midnight. Now she'd had time to think, she knew that she should probably call John. She still wasn't sure she had forgiven him or if he had done any thinking in return, but she'd promised him Monday and she'd rather do it before a long night's sleep than after a stressful day of work and running around after the kids.

She tucked the children into the double bed that they were sharing, placing two kisses on each of their foreheads. As she walked away from the bed to leave the room, she heard the faint whisper of "Mummy?" Being called out to her.

"Yes sweetie?" She turned around asking, facing her son who's big brown eyes peered up at her curiously.

Charlie looked down to his duvet and then back up to his Mum who smiled softly at her. "Is Tom Daddy now?" He asked slowly, as if he wanting to cry over the idea.

Clara shook her head urgently, leaning forward to kiss the child's head and pull him in for a hug. "No!" She gasped, rubbing his back soothingly. "God no, Tom is not and will never be your Daddy. Daddy is irreplaceable to you and to Heather and to me. You know that baby." She hushed, kissed his forehead in-between statements for emphasis.

Charlie looked down guiltily again to avoid Clara's eye contact. "Then why was Daddy crying so much when we went on holiday?" He asked simply. Clara often cursed that he children had quite mature ages. It made her have to answer awkward questions that children of that age did not need to know.

She thought about it for a few seconds before cupping Charlie's cheeks and kissing his little, button nose. "Because, he misses us so, so, so, so much." Clara lied, hoping that Charlie would accept that as an answer in his sleepy state.

The boy nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the words his Mother had given him in his head. "But we'll be home soon?" Charlie asked worriedly, a silent plea within his words. "I do like Tom, but I prefer Daddy." Charlie whispered, rolling over onto his side to get a better night's sleep.

Clara knew he had fallen into unconsciousness the moment his tiny head hit the pillow from the way his breathing suddenly shallowed out. "Me too baby." Clara whispered. "Me too."

Despite Tom's demands that Clara sleep in his bed, Clara was sleeping downstairs on the couch when she leaned over towards the house phone which was conveniently placed on the coffee table beside the sofa.

She dialled the number that was etched into her memory from years of random panicked calls and love notes from work. Each number brought a new sense of joy to her day, but this time it was different. Her whole body was filled up with dread rather than love and she could only hope that she wouldn't the moment she heard his voice.

"Hello?" John asked down the phone, sounding tired and droopy.

"Hi." Clara murmured with a coarse voice. She could practically hear the sound of John's body sitting up in alarm at the sound of her voice and John was suddenly much wider awake.

"I thought you said Monday?" John muttered in his sleepiness. Clara chuckled lightly and looked over to the wall.

"Check the clock." She smirked, seeing John look at the midnight hands, in her mind, as he tutted in amusement.

"Clever clogs." He mumbled affectionately, a smile evidently on his face through his voice. The silence that hung over the next few seconds brought back the unresolved tension which is what they needed to desperately address.

"John, look I..." Clara started, not entirely sure what it was she was about to admit.

"I'm sorry Clara." John interrupted, his voice going coarser than Clara's as his throat began to well up. "I'm so, so sorry and I just want you to come home. Love, I need you to come home." He begged.

Clara's silence told John that she still wasn't ready, but he sure as hell was not prepared to give up his fight.

"I'll be better to you and the kids. No more secrets, no more lies. I'll tell you everything Clara. Please, I just need you back. I can't do this without you, without my children."

Clara's voice hitched when he mentioned the children. She didn't feel comfortable taking them away from him for so long, after all, what had they done to deserve not seeing their Daddy? But she needed him to understand what he had done. She still needed some more time to think.

"Look, we'll..." Clara stumbled out of her emotional haste, trying to form some sentences that would make some sense. "We'll come back on Friday." She whispered, not wanting to hear John's objections on the other side of the line.

"No, Clara. You can't do that to me. It's too long." John begged, his voice cracking from the idea of having to wait another five days.

Clara mulled it over in her thoughts before finally making a clear decision. "Come and meet us on Wednesday at Heather's ice-skating practice. There's a bit of free skating afterwards that I was going to with Tom. Maybe, take the kid out for a walk or something then?" She offered willingly. He was a good father and he didn't deserve to miss his kids. It was Clara who was mad after all, although she didn't have much right to be after Friday night.

"See you at six?" John said hopefully, the joy evident in his voice. It made Clara smile to know that he was happy again and not suffering.

"Yeah, that will be great." Clara smiled.

"See you then." John murmured, trying to me as comforting as he could to his wife.

"See you soon." She mumbled. "And John, I-" The line went dead in Clara's hand and she pulled the phone back from her ear, staring at it blankly. Her heart grew heavy with sorrow as she put the phone back on it's stand.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the sofa and replayed the phone call in her head. Moments later, the phone began to ring again and she picked it up in a flash, asking for John.

"I almost forgot to say..." John whispered lovingly, "I love you." He quickly hung up once more, leaving Clara in a confused but happy state of mind.

He still loved her and that was all that counted for now. She debated how long that would last after she told him about Tom, but she just prayed for the best situation to come out of the entire mess they; built for themselves.

* * *

 

"Mummy, watch this!" Heather cried out, shouting towards Clara at the other side of the rink. Heather had been taking skating lessons for a few years now, and occasionally Clara would skate afterwards with her. She had take Tom this time and quickly discovered that he really did not know how to ice skate.

Heather lifted her foot and did one turn in the air, landing it safely. Clara gave a small cheer, skating over to her and pulling her back to where she was with Tom. "Well done sweetie." She cooed, kissing Heather's head affectionately. "That's amazing!"

Heather beamed at the two adults in her presence, before getting distracted by her brother calling her name as he skated across the ice. Both of them took lessons, although Heather was much more serious about it than Charlie was.

Clara laughed as she watched Heather do three turns in a row, practising for the next week's lessons.

The girl loved to skate, which intrigued Clara greatly. She smiled as she watched her daughter do loads of things she had always longed to do once upon a time.

"What you thinking about?" Tom asked generally, smiling in her direction.

Clara hummed under her breath and smiled softly. "About how amazing my kids are." She turned to Tom and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, It's just...They do so many things I'd always wanted as a child and it constantly shocks me just how beautiful and talented they are."

Tom smiled in return and shook his head lightly. "No, your kids really are something." He looked over to the small girl doing more and more turns on the ice. "So, does Heather want to be an ice skater when she is older?" He asked lightly, nudging Clara with his elbow.

Clara shrugged her shoulders sarcastically. "It changes from one week to the next. Last week it was a ballerina, and the week before it was a chef, although the main one is figure skating."

"And Charlie?" He asked politely, looking over to the small boy in the corner who was watching his sister in delight and awe.

"God only knows." Clara laughed, staring back towards the children. Heather skated over to Clara and stopped short in front of her.

"Mummy, which country have good ice skaters?" She asked happily, bobbing her knees up and down in excitement.

Clara pretended to think it over before leaning down as if it were a massive secret. "Hmm, well, the Ukraine are pretty good. And Russia have basically unbeatable at pairs." She gasped, looking towards the girl with wide eyes.

Heather thought it over for a second. "Is England any good?" She asked simply, looking hopeful.

Clara bit her lip dramatically and shook her head. "Sorry honey, but you could be the first great British figure skater?" She suggested, making Heather's face light up once more.

"Yeah, I'm going to be what Mummy says!" She cried out, demanding that this were to be true. Clara laughed with Tom as the girl pondered her decision for a moment. "Actually," She said, "I'm going to be a Russian figure skater. That way I can be the best!"

Heather skated off to the centre of the rink as Clara's face fell. That was the last thing in the world she wanted her daughter to do. She'd never realised before just how much she suddenly wanted to be English; to actually have this life she'd made for herself with all the fake identities as real ones and real family with real friends and real night jobs.

"Does it ever bother you?" Tom asked gently, careful to avoid the hearing of those around. "That they won't ever be Russian?"

Clara looked over to the two children playing and shook her head slowly. "No." She decided. "It did, once. When I was first pregnant, I didn't know how I could bring up a child who didn't even know me. But now, I look at them, and they're so...English. And that's what I want them to be. And I want to be that too."

Tom put one arm around her shoulders and Clara leant her head against his comfortingly.

"Daddy!" They suddenly heard Clara call, as he turned around and pointed at the man approaching the two children. They squealed as John picked them both up under his arms and carefully spun them around, to avoid hitting other people.

"How are you two, my precious little babies?" He cooed, putting the children down and pulling them both into a massive hug, squeezing his eyes tight shut as he held them dearly.

"I'm going to be a figure skater for Russia! Mummy said they were the best!" Heather declared to her Dad, making him laugh loudly.

"You do realise you have to be Russian to compete for them, right?" John teased, standing up fully once more and ruffling up her hair.

Heather pulled on her sulky face and gave John a huge pout. "I don't care." She said stubbornly, skating over to the edge of the rink where Tom and Clara were watching and listening to the trio.

John moved over to Clara and smiled at her. "I swear, that kid will now be looking for forms on how to become a Russian citizen soon." John laughed to Clara. "As if our children could turn out any worse."

Clara smiled at him secretly, trying not to laugh too hard at John's extremely "British" opinion.

"And here I thought drugs would be a problem. But no, my daughter wants to be Russian. May God help us all." Clara teased, Heather scowling at her Mum whilst she spoke. "I'm only teasing hon." Clara smiled as she kissed Heather on the head gently.

John stared at Clara momentarily, smiling towards her as she sorted out the kids. their eyes caught each others and Clara knew that if she didn't tear her eyes away from his soon, she would end up crying in public which was the last thing she wanted to do.

They all got off the ice quickly, Tom avoiding John's glare.

John waited patiently as Clara took the kids' shoes and gave them back, then put on their coats and got their things so that they could go out with their Dad for a while.

"Meet me at Bella Napoli at about nine-thirty, yeah?" She double checked with John. He nodded gratefully and gave Clara a sorrowful look as he turned away from her, wanting to pull her into his arms in a loving embrace.

"Oh Clara!" He shouted, turning back to her as her attention raised. "Erm, Bill and Jane have invited us to dinner on the Ricci on Sunday. Black tie." He smiled at her before walking off with the children.

Tom turned to Clara as she nodded slowly. "What was that about?" He asked quietly, walking towards the benches so they could remove their own skates and get ready to go.

"Um, Bill and Jane are my bosses. The Ricci is a boat and black tie means it's a hit." Clara whispered slowly, cautious of anyone around them hearing.

Tom took in the information slowly, leaning back to stare at Clara who was busying herself with other things. He'd forgotten that wasn't all just a game of child's play. there was so much involved to what Clara had to do, and she did it well. That's why she'd deceived him for so long.

He was going to press her for more, but it was then that she stood up to hand back in her skates and he decided it would be better off left unsaid.

John had managed to convince Clara to let him drive the kids back to Tom's when they met up again and she had given in to his silent beg.

He sent the children inside quickly, aware that it was long past their bedtime. Clara told them that she would be up in a minute as she stood in the doorway of the house. Tom had left to go in a shower, leaving Clara to talk to John alone.

"Clara, I..." John started, but Clara stopped him by putting a finger over his lips. She moved away from where she was leaning against the door post, moving them around so she could push John lightly against the door. Her lips moved with his delicately as she tried to mend away all the pain and suffering she had caused him; they had caused each other.

When she pulled back, she licked her lips slowly and rested her head on his chest. His hands instantly went up to hold her there, like he always did and always would.

"I love you." He whispered meaningfully. Clara felt the teardrop hit her head and she closed her eyes, knowing that her own tears were ready to fall too. "I love you so much Clara, and I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I'm so, so sorry." He begged.

Each statement was emphasised with a teardrop and it made Clara's heart truly break in two.

"I love you too." Clara whispered, grasping onto his shirt for support so she could bury her face in his chest as she cried. "Oh my God, why are we so messed up?" She mumbled, praying that someone could have an answer for her.

"We're not." John replied simply. "Everyone makes mistakes, we're only human." John said simply. "And I don't care about anything you've done or said, I will always forgive you for it. So please Clara, forgive me."

Clara nodded quickly. "Of course I forgive you, but..." She swallowed twice and started john in the eye. "There's something I must tell you first."

John smiled slightly and looked down to his feet. "You slept with Tom."

Clara leaned back in shock but John just smirked. "How did you..?" Clara started.

"I could just tell." John replied, stroking the hair out of Clara's face. "You always have been a more...practical person at solving your issues." He mumbled.

"Then why aren't you mad at me?" Clara whispered, looking back into his eyes that were full of hurt and upset and love.

John shook his head in denial and confusion. "I don't know. I'm just...not. I love you too fucking much." He admitted with a shaky laugh.

"Me too. Christ, me too." Clara cried, capturing his lips with hers once more. His lips made her forget why she was ever angry about anything, even though she should have been. There were still issues she needed to address, she knew that, but for now she simply needed his lips against hers and that was enough.

When they finally broke apart, Clara clung to John tightly, before releasing him and stepping back to allow him to leave.

"See you Friday." He whispered lovingly as he started his trek down the garden path and to his car.

"I'll call you!" Clara called, flashing him a small smile. John stopped in his tracks and turned around swiftly to give her one last kiss, before running over down the path, leaving Clara standing in the doorway with a soul full of despair, but a heart full of love.


	17. Sewing up the Pieces

"Heather, Charlie! Wait, come and get your bags!" Clara shouted as the children ran down the driveway.

"Hello!" John shouted at them, pulling them both up into his arms at the same time in a big hug. "How are my favourite people in the world?" He teased, kissing them both on the cheek as they beamed at him.

"Kids!" Clara shouted as she tried to pull all of their suitcases out of the car. The task started out successfully but ended in Clara groaning as Heather's case fell on her foot.

John put the kids down, tutting disapprovingly at them as he walked over to help Clara. He extended his hand out to take the cases and Clara gave him a questionable stare before obliging. He smiled gratefully at her as he carried the bags into the house, her following shortly behind him.

"You should really help your Mother you know." John mumbled, his eyebrows raising towards the children as he left the cases at the bottom of the stairs. Clara left hers beside the other cautiously and stared sat it for a few moments.

It had been a long and confusing week for Clara. Too many things had happened and yet, so much had stood still. She'd realised just how much she hated John for what he did, and just how much she loved him anyway. That was probably the most confusing thing of all.

Clara's eyes fixated on her suitcase still as she considered grabbing the bag and walking out of the door once more. If she was going to do it, then now was her last chance. She had a few seconds more before everyone would assume everything was alright and they would start trying to rebuild their family.

She hadn't even realised her hand was still gripping the handle of the case until John covered it with his and gently squeezed. Clara looked to her side and into John's eyes. He gave her a smile that told her everything was going to be alright, and it allowed her to believe it. She smiled gently back and used her other hand to loop around his neck in a hug. Once she had started it, John felt no hesitation in crashing her head into his chest and holding her tight.

"I love you." He whispered under his breath, just loud enough so Clara could hear it but quiet enough so that it somehow felt intimate in the large hallway, despite the sound of children fighting over what channel to watch on the television next door.

Clara took a small breath as she was about to reply, when she felt a small tug at the base of her shirt.

"Mummy?" Charlie asked innocently, his big brown eyes gazing up at her which indicated he wanted her to do something for him.

Clara leaned back from the hug and smiled down at the boy, bending over so she was at his height level. Charlie looked down, his eyes moving from John to Clara. "Can we have family time?" He asked quietly as he looked around guiltily. Clara smiled and nodded her head as she bit her lip in happiness.

"Of course we can Charlie!" She grinned, picking him up in her arms and sitting him on her hip. "What do you want to watch?" She asked enthusiastically, turning around to face John, who was also sporting a happy smile.

"Mouseys!" Charlie shouted, scrunching his nose up like a mouse as best as he could. John and Clara had quite recently that "mouseys" meant An American Tail. Charlie loved that film and had developed a love for dressing up like mice.

"Okay, mouseys it is." Clara smiled, tapping the end of Charlie's nose affectionately as she began to walk into the living room. On the way in, John grabbed Charlie from behind and swung him over his shoulder so that his small head was resting on John's back and his legs were on John's chest.

"Daddy!" Charlie wined in amusement, kicking and hitting john playfully as he ran the boy around the living room. Heather sat on the sofa, rolling her eyes with her arms folded.

"You two are such babies." She snorted, sticking her nose up in the air as she refused to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. It took everything within Clara not to giggle as she sat down beside Heather and started tickling her neck. She writhed underneath Clara and curled onto her side, laughing hysterically as she begged her Mum to stop.

Clara finally took mercy when Heather promised her lots of hugs and kisses all night. By this point, John had already finished running Charlie around the room as an aeroplane and they all were sat down on the sofa, out of breath, and ready to put on the video.

Heather snuggled into Clara's side and Charlie was on her other. Clara knew that Charlie would either move onto her or John's lap at some point through the movie so made sure that her legs weren't crossed so it wouldn't be uncomfortable for both parties involved.

Charlie was asleep within ten minutes of the movie starting. Clara smiled over to John as she realised he was draped over his legs. John smiled back at the casualness of it all and reached his arm out to Clara so that they could hold hands, even though they had a Charlie sandwich in-between them.

By the time Somewhere Out There had started playing, Heather was also asleep on Clara's side. She was going to nudge John sooner, but she secretly loved the song and wanted to wait until it was over before informing him that both the children were asleep.

They switched off the video as quietly as they could and each took a child in arms, carrying them up to their bedrooms. They knew that the kids must have been spark out, when not a single noise or bang as they walked into things in the process of taking the children to their rooms, woke them up.

Clara kissed Heather on the forehead first and tucked her in. She worried that one day she wouldn't be as close to her daughter as she often wished to be and she tried to make sure that nothing could get in the way of that. Especially not the job. That was one thing she would never be willing to sacrifice for the job; her family. She would almost certainly be happier to sell out her job for her family, by a long way.

Once she felt like she had left Heather to rest for a while, she moved into Charlie's room, swapping with John, so she could kiss the boy goodnight.

"Goodnight my little baby." she whispered as she hummed him to sleep. He murmured something in reply and Clara paused as she thought he was waking up, but then he rolled over and started gently snoring once more and Clara smiled softly at the little boy before leaving the room and walking back into her bedroom.

John was already in there, getting stripped down to his boxers for bed. Clara walked over to the wardrobe and picked out a nightdress, getting changed into it quickly so she could lie down in the bed and o to sleep, forgetting the mess of the entire week.

She knew it wasn't going to be so simple. Her and John would have to talk and she knew that meant she would have to talk about Tom. She already felt like enough of an idiot already without having to explain the whole disaster to her waiting husband. Tom had been so comforting and friendly that whole week, she'd forgotten they'd ever even done anything, but now she was facing John it all came back to her in floods of mixed up and confused emotional memories.

She felt unusually uncomfortable in her nightdress as she realised how skimpy it was. It wasn't because she didn't want John to see her in it, the exact opposite, it was that she didn't want to talk about sleeping with another man whilst lying in something so provocative next to John.

Either way, he didn't seem to mind as she walked over to the bed with him and got herself tucked in under the covers. It took a whole five seconds of them lying on their backs before they moved to face each other on their sides. Clara stared John in the eyes, studying his emotions. She could only read hurt and guilt and that was way enough for her before she felt her own guilt piling up too.

"I'm sorry." Clara whispered as she moved closer to John, craving his warmth and comfort. John lifted up his arm and moved her body into his so that they were one shape, moulded together.

"Why?" John whispered as he kissed her forehead lovingly. Clara ran her fingers up and down the side of John's bare stomach, her eyes focusing on the dancing that they were marking out.

"For...cheating on you." Clara murmured in response, her eyes filling with tears so much that she had to swallow and blink several times so that they wouldn't fall; not in front of John, not now.

John gave a sad smile and rubbed her back up and down soothingly. It was a comforting gesture that Clara found herself liking rather a lot with John. It was something that Tom did also, but it never felt so intimate. It felt personal when John did it, like he was caring for her and only her. No-one else in the world mattered when John did the little things like that.

"I cheated on you though." John whispered back, his hands finding on of hers so that their fingers could interlock. Clara looked down to their hands which were now clasped tightly together and looked back up into his eyes unsurely.

"Two wrongs don't make a right." Clara muttered, looking away to the side as one small teardrop fell down her cheek. She hadn't even noticed it until John kissed it away. That was something she craved about John; he actually kissed away her tears.

John kissed her cheek twice more for good measure, insuring that there weren't any more tears that were to fall. When he knew that there weren't, he moved away one of his hands and used his finger to lift up Clara's chin ever-so-slightly so that she would look into his eyes.

"It's not about being wrong Clara." He murmured. He brought her hand up to her face so that she would cup her cheek, his hand going over the top of hers and remaining there in a heartfelt embrace. "I love you for who you are and what you are, faults and all. I don't care about what awful things you've ever done in life, because they are outweighed by the good things. those are the things I see in you when I look at you when you don't realise I am." John moved his body away for a moment and Clara moved with it, clenching onto the comfort of his body next to hers.

John leaned in to whisper in Clara's ear, his hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I cherish you, Clara."

Clara smiled and nodded, shoeing her understanding for what he meant. "I'm so sorry." She whispered once more, putting a finer over his lips so that he remained quiet as she explained. "For Tom, for saying awful things. I took the kids away from you and I shouted at you when you didn't deserve it..."

"I did deserve it Clara and we both know that." John muttered, looking sorrowful once more. Clara shook her head slowly and kissed his lips for a brief moment as good measure.

"Well then I deserve it too." She whispered back into his chest as she lay there.

John looked down to her and shut his eyes briefly, thinking over what to say in his head. There wasn't much that he actually could say that would suffice what he needed to say.

"River contacted me a few years ago." John whispered, watching Clara for her reactions. He felt her muscles grow rigid, but she showed no sign that she wanted him to stop. "And...she'd been stationed here for a year. It had taken her all that time to find me again."

Clara swallowed audibly causing John to pause. She nodded gently to show that she wanted to carry on and he lifted his head higher so that his chin was resting in her hair.

"When she did...She wanted to see me." John took a heavy breath and sighed. "And I...I thought it would all be okay because I told her how I loved you and the kids but she didn't really listen and I was so goddamn stupid." He said hurriedly, desperate to get it out of his system.

"That night, I remember I got home really late and you were worried about me. I'd gone to that stingy only hotel room thinking I wouldn't be so stupid, and I left feeling like I'd just shot you and the kids dead in front of me. Of course, you didn't know, but I just wanted to hold you and tell you how much I love you and apologise."

Clara bit her lip and her grip on John tightened. It was an odd thing to be comforting him about, but nothing in their relationship had ever been entirely conventional and John was only human.

"I told River that it was wrong." He said bluntly when he stopped his heart from beating him up within his chest. "And she immediately agreed to never see me again. Besides, there was nothing there anymore. It was clear I love you."

Clara looked up and into John's eyes. He looked relieved that it was finally out in the open, but scared that Clara wouldn't accept him again. She gave him a small smile which made his body less tense and then pressed the side of her face into his chest, planting small kisses on the soft skin beside her.

It made have only been a small gesture, but it was enough to make John move his body on top of Clara's and begin to kiss her neck slowly, allowing her to stop him at any moment. Clara hummed in a tired sigh before leaning back slightly so that john paused in his advances.

"I need to tell you." Clara murmured. "I want you to know what happened properly before we forgive each other fully." She thought out practically.

John pulled back, propping himself up on his hands as he stared down at Clara. She suddenly felt an immense amount of pressure from her to speak at this angle, but she felt that changing positions to talk may have been a bit drastic at this moment in time.

Clara licked her bottom lip slowly as she tried to avoid John' eyes when she spoke. She felt even worse about it when she looked into his warm, loving eyes.

"I was so upset that day." Clara blurted out, shaking her head in confusion at the blurred memories of intense hurt and sadness and anger from that day. "And Tom was just...there."

She looked over to John who nodded in understanding. "I could only think of you, and I wanted to think of anything else. Anything would have been better than having to think about the pain that came with thoughts of you. So...I broke. And I'm sorry John."

He nodded, bending down his body to kiss her lips gently, before rolling back onto is side so she could crawl back into his arms. He understood that she just needed to be held and he was the perfect man for the job in that moment.

Clara looked down to John's hip for a moment as he hugged hr tightly, considering something to say that could help lighten the heavy mood that was draped over them in a dark veil which drowned out most of the sunlight.

Clara bit her lip as she opened her mouth to speak, unsure of how John would react. "If it makes anything better at all..." She began, sounding embarrassed but also relieved. "Tom might, kind of be, a little bit...gay." A huge blush spread to Clara's cheeks as John leaned back to raise his eyebrows at her.

"You had sex with..."

"Uh-huh." Clara mumbled, hiding her face in the pillow. John dramatically used three fingers to pull her face away and place a kiss on her cheeks and her nose, emphasising the blush in those areas. Clara wasn't usually the blushing type, and John had learnt that it wasn't an opportunity to miss when it finally came around. He was always blushing, but to see Clara blush was a miracle.

John smirked and lowered his face so his nose was touching Clara's, before he spoke. "Well, that makes me a little less...suspicious." He mumbled. Clara raised her eyebrows questioningly, her blush finally disappearing and making a re-appearance, but this time it was on John's face.

"Of what?" She asked, a small giggle falling from her lips as she knew what was about to be said.

"I may have been jealous whenever he hugged you..." Clara gave him a stern glare and he caved in. "Or maybe held your hand..." Her glare intensified and John let out a shaky breath. "Or whenever he made you laugh and smile or touched you in any way at all when I was around."

Clara shook her head disapprovingly. "Whatever am I going to do with you?" She smirked, kissing john's chest lightly once more.

John smiled in return and kissed her forehead. "Whatever you want."

* * *

 

Clara and John sat on the sofa as they watched the television live from Russia.

"What are our orders?" Clara whispered to John slowly, careful so that the kids wouldn't hear next door. They needed to know within the next twenty-four hours what was to happen to them.

John took a slow breath. "According to them, we have no employers anymore. The Soviet Union no longer exists. We're free to do and live where we want, whether that be England or Russia." John whispered back.

Clara nodded slowly, listening carefully for the sound of the kids who were laughing at something next door. She took a sigh as the words she thought she'd never say, came out of her mouth.

"If we don't go back immediately and we try to later, we could be caught out as spies if we got the kids Russian citizenships." Clara reasoned, thinking it all out in her head. "But, I don't want to uproot them. If we leave right now, it'll be clear we were spies. But I don't want to go back. Not with the kids here."

John nodded his head slowly in agreement. They looked through to the other room once more s the kids laughed again and John closed his eyes in defeat. He knew what the final decision would be, even if they were accused of being traitors for it by the Russians.

"We'll stay in England." John said firmly. There were no protests or arguments from Clara. they knew that they had to do what was best for their kids. And they had once sworn long ago, their kids would never ever know the truth about who they really were.


	18. We Forget in Time

John looked at the pictures he held in his hand. Each picture contained a memory filled of laughter and fun. That's how he always saw his family; full of fun and laughter.

It felt like only hours ago he'd been holding Heather for the first time. He wished time would just freeze, so he could have a moment to really look at his family and appreciate who they were and who they had become. He wanted to stop time so he could look at Heather while she was still a girl before she turned into a young woman. She was already so bright and mature for her age, he felt like he was losing her already. It was the tiny moments, like the ones in the photographs, that reminded him she was still his little girl.

Charlie was growing up fast too. He no longer wanted to be seen around Clara anymore and insisted on going to football games with his Dad. It was funny how only two years ago Charlie had clung to his Mum like she was his salvation, and now he couldn't try to avoid her more.

John knew it was all for show when, at the end of the day, he curled up on the sofa next to Clara and snuggled into her side for cuddles, like they always had.

John looked down at the photograph of Clara just after they'd moved to England. He'd taken it when she wasn't looking. She had been so mad for it afterwards and he hadn't even known why he'd done it; but now he did. She had been smiling in that picture, a rarity for Clara back in those times. She always looked so sad and in this one tiny second, she looked happy. John wanted to capture it so that he could save it forever. She was the symbol of that tiny spark of hope she'd held within her when everything in her life had felt like darkness and he needed to show her that in the future years.

The pictures on the mantelpiece he had taken that day, the day he'd fallen asleep with the children wrapped around him. They were so young back then. They despised the picture whenever friends came around and heather liked to accuse her parents of being obsessively sentimental, but she often smiled at it when she thought no-one could see.

There was also the one of Clara on the sofa which was taken on the same day. There was something so authentically peaceful about the pictures that made John feel at home. No matter what he had done or said in his life, this moment was real and it was there and nothing in the world could ever take that memory of true love away from him.

The pictures of the children every school year lined up the rest of the mantelpiece, a few of Clara throughout the years. His favourite was one he'd taken a few autumns before. She'd been standing amongst the burnt orange flames of the leaves on the trees, laughing at John for making her stand there so he could take a picture.

It had been after some mission, but she looked so happy to see John and he couldn't resist. He knew that he'd one day want to look back and remember that moment. She had just lifted her leg in the air and shrugged her shoulders, a grin spread across her blushed face. She looked so happy and so young and so care-free. That would be the thing that John would always remember bright in his mind.

But he also loved the moments when he walked in the house and she kissed him absent-mindedly on the lips. Just knowing that kissing him was something she did so casually as it was part of her essential routine made his heart warm more than she would ever know.

You could say John was feeling particularly nostalgic this particular Christmas as he stared down at the pictures he had etched into his brain. Clara often accused him of staring at her for too long for those reasons.

The thing that she didn't understand was, time forgets. In time, we forget the little things that we take for granted yet cherish so much. That little thing we forgot to tell our loved ones about that had made us laugh or how we hadn't ever properly thanked someone for what they did for us.

You never forget when you forgot to tell someone you loved them in a big moment, but we forget the moments when we did. We don't take a pause to allow the moments where our hearts are swelling with love, to sink in and embrace it. We just carry on with life as if nothing is different from normal, when in fact, so much is. Because what we see as normal is in fact something so beautiful, words can't describe it.

John wasn't prepared to take any of this for granted. He'd lived on edge for too many years of his life and he was now free to live it how he liked. So he was going to take every single moment he loved with Clara and Heather as Charlie, and he was going to make a mental note of it.

When people asked him how the kids were doing at school, he wouldn't boast about their amazing grades, Heather' skating exams or Charlie's karate classes. No, he would tell them about how Charlie had smiled him the night before and told him that he was the best Dad in the world. He wanted to tell the whole world about how his nine year old daughter had put a smile on his face all night, just by telling him a really bad joke, but she had found it extremely funny and that meant that John did too.

He wanted, no, he needed to tell anyone who asked how Clara had stroked his chin all morning until he woke up as she hadn't been able to sleep. She had just smiled and told him that his face kept her calm, but that meant to much more to John.

This was his home. His home that he could proudly call his. And nothing, nothing, could ever take away these things from him. And as long as he was sure of that, then he new he would be okay. He would never need anything or anyone else, as long as he could still remember Clara's smile and Heather's laugh and Charlie's hugs. As long as he remembered them, then he would always be fine.

* * *

 

"Heather, wait!" Charlie called as his big sister dragged him out of bed. It was still dark outside, but it was time to wake up their parents.

Charlie ran after his sister and they both halted at the bedroom door. Heather nodded to Charlie, twisting the handle slowly and started to tiptoe in.

They could hear the shallow breaths of their parents as they tried to be as quiet as they could. Charlie followed short behind, walking to other side of the big bed from Heather.

Heather nodded to him and at the same time, they jumped up onto the bed and shouted "It's Christmas!" In Clara and John's faces.

Clara sat bolt upright, almost sending Charlie flying as she wrapped him up in her arms. She was half asleep, but she'd been expecting the wake up call and she smothered Charlie's face in kisses.

"It's six thirty!" Clara moaned in fake protest, grinning towards Charlie as John slowly sat up from beside her, hugging Heather and reaching one arm out to Clara.

"Time for presents!" Charlie squealed, leaning over to shake john fully awake so that they could run downstairs quickly. Clara got dragged out of bed by the arm as Charlie tried to run to the door.

John got out of bed slowly at Heather's protests and wiped his eyes lazily. He mouthed "Merry Christmas" over to Clara who grinned at him in reply.

The firm tug on Clara's arm reminded her that she had a child hungry for Christmas clinging onto her and she sighed. "It's so early, Santa's probably not even come yet." Clara whined, trying to move back to her bed in amusement as John tried to do the same.

Heather shook her head angrily. "The presents are definitely there because I saw Dad getting them out of the-" Heather's mouth collided with John's palm as he covered it quickly, leaving a bewildered Charlie to figure out why on Earth is parent's had panicked.

Clara shot Heather a knowing glare and nodded to her in thanks when John removed his hand and she didn't say anything. They followed the eager children down the stairs, trying to stop them from running.

The attempt was fruitless none-the-less as John looked just as excited as the children.

They ran into the living room and sat around the tree in the corner of the room, grinning from ear to ear, Clara included.

"Only one present each before breakfast." Clara said sternly, eyeing John in particular. He smirked as he watched the children pick the biggest ones after a few mumbles of annoyance.

Since they were already up, breakfast would be pretty soon anyway. Heather picked out a rather big square box and grinned towards her parents. She had a pretty good idea of what it was, but she wanted to be sure first.

As she removed the wrapping paper, she gasped in excitement and opened the big white box knowingly. Inside where her own new pair of white skating boots, that had glitter patterns along the bottom and up the side. They looked pretty, yet sophisticated. She looked underneath the boots to see a pair of blades perfectly sharpened. She put them back carefully, standing up and running across the room to give John and Clara hugs.

They smiled to each other as they squeezed her tight, grinning at the joy they saw in her face. She'd been asking for new skates for two months and Clara had known from that moment on what she was getting Heather for Christmas.

"Go and look in the purple present under the tree." Clara whispered to Heather as she gave her a hug. Heather looked up happily and widened her eyes.

"Now?" She asked quietly, biting her lip so that she didn't jump up and down quite yet.

Clara nodded. "Just this once." She smiled, watching as the girl ran back to the tree and pulled out the present eagerly. She unwrapped the small white costume, which matched her boots perfectly.

Heather had a skating recital in May and she was preparing a snowflake dance. Clara wanted it to look perfect, and with the skates already bought she knew that there wasn't much left to lose. Heather ran to hug them once more, whispering thank you repetitively as she hugged them as tight as she possibly could.

Clara hugged her back with John and they looked up at each other to smile in agreement that they were both right to get it for Heather. They were so proud of their little girl and they wanted her to know that every day.

Charlie picked out his present as they hugged and unwrapped it, shouting out loud at what he'd got. He cheered loudly as he wrapped his new scarf around his neck and shoved his hat on his head, showing it off to the rest of the family. Charlie had decided he was a Chelsea fan, and as John had no preference, he decided that this would be an appropriate present for him.

He apparently loved it as much as Heather had loved hers as he ran over to them and joined in the hug. "Thank Santa for me!" He shouted in glee. They held each other close in a massive huddle for a moment before Clara announced that they had sausages and eggs for breakfast, causing everyone to race each other into the kitchen.

Once they had calmed down slightly, everyone ate their breakfast happily, grinning and smiling about the most random of things. John brought out the bucks fizz and hesitated when Heather had asked to try some. He allowed Charlie to sip his drink, but he had immediately hated it, which John was grateful for.

Heather poured herself a tiny amount, bringing it up to her to nose to smell it. She then slowly sipped a tiny amount. And first she nodded unsurely before wrenching up her face at the taste and shaking her head firmly. "Eugh, nope. Not for me." She declared, pushing the drink away towards Clara, who picked it up and simply topped up her own glass amusedly.

After breakfast, Clara walked back into the living room and sat down on the floor, the children sandwiched in-between her and John. They picked out a present more each, marvelling at the gifts they'd received.

Clara grinned at John as he found the one from the kids under the tree. They had asked Clara if she would allow them to get him ten packets of Jammie Dodgers, his favourite sweet treat. He jumped up in happiness as the packets of biscuits fell everywhere around him an the kids giggled.

Once everything had calmed once more, Clara reached over to a present with her name on from the kids too. She knew they had given her a diary as she was always saying she needed to remember certain things..

John reached for his second present and Clara smiled as he opened the small box, laughing when he saw the new camera inside. "So you can take lots of those stupid pictures." Clara laughed, sticking her tongue out at John.

John used the moment after where Clara was laughing affectionately towards him to sneakily take a picture. She looked at him in annoyance for it, but he knew that he would never forget that first picture of this brand new camera.

Clara finally reached for her second present after a while of happy laughter. The kids leaned in to see what John had got her as he crossed the room to sit next to her.

She opened the box to see a locket sat on the inside. Gasping in surprise, she looked to her side to John and he nodded for her to open it.

She slowly lifted open the clutch and grinned when she saw a picture of the kids on one side and one of them together a few years earlier on the other. She smiled at each picture, tears forming in her eyes from the irony of the situation and she knew that she had to kids John to stop them from falling.

He kissed her back passionately, hugging her to him as they smiled.

"Ew!" They heard Charlie mumbled from behind as Heather tried to shut him up. Clara leant back and lipped an apology to the kids, giving John a cheeky smile which meant she was annoyed with him but in the most loving way. He had a habit of sweeping her off her feet so suddenly.

The doorbell rang and the kids looked to and from each other in confusion on who on Earth it could be. Clara smiled knowingly and bit her lip.

"One last thing before lunch." Clara said to Heather slowly as she looked over to the girl.

John interrupted, running over to Heather so she would stand up and follow him to the door. "We know it's your birthday in a couple of weeks, but this present is joint Christmas and birthday." He murmured in her ear as she looked from the door handle to John in excitement.

Slowly turning the handle of the door, she peeked around to see a young woman holding out a basket to her. John gave her a happy thumbs up from behind and the woman said her thanks as she handed the basket to Heather.

Heather slowly walked into the sitting room with it as John thanked the woman at the door. She knew what was inside already from the feeling of the moving around, but her heart was still filled with joy as she opened the basket after putting it down.

Inside was a tiny Yorkie puppy, only about two months old. Heather turned to her parents, happiness not enough for her to even explain her feelings in that moment. John turned on the video camera and began to film her taking the puppy out of the box.

"Mum!" She gasped, tears forming in the girl's eyes.

"He's all yours to look after." Clara smiled, reaching over to pet the tiny furry ball in Heather's arms. Heather nodded unsurely, suddenly looking so much more mature than ever.

The moment reminded John of when Clara had first held Heather and how she suddenly looked like her whole world had turned upside down for this tiny little thing. That's how John knew that Heather would make a perfect Mother, simply from this moment.

Heather stroked the dog as he sniffed her gently, his tail wagging around happily and curling up in her arms.

"Aw!" Heather squealed quietly, cuddling the small pup into her chest. "What's he called?" She asked John in a hushed whisper, careful as to not scare the dog too much.

"You name him." John whispered back, pointing towards the dog. Her eye's widened as she scanned her brain for names.

"Ummm..." She thought slowly, thinking of something that suited him. "Bubblegum?" She murmured.

Clara didn't want to be mean but she had to shake her head. "How about lucky?" she suggested.

Heather shook her head at the common name and looked down to the small animal that was now resting in her arms from the warmth. "Bobby? Wolfy? Bear? Max? Sammy? Toby..."

"Wait hang on." Clara halted the suggestions, smiling at Heather. "Sammy?" She whispered, looking down at the small boy who was most definitely a Sammy.

Heather nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Sammy." She smiled, holding the small dog gently and vowing to it that she would keep it safe.

John turned off the video slowly, smiling over to Clara before planting a softer kiss on her lips.

"I thought I'd get Christmas sex, but apparently not." John teased, whispering in Clara's ear so the kids wouldn't hear.

Clara simply hummed in reply and john took that as a good sign.

* * *

 

"I'm exhausted." Clara complained as she flopped her body down on the bed. "I'm bloated as hell too."

The kids were finally asleep after a long Christmas and all Clara wanted to do was sleep, as well as other things too.

John walked over to the bed, lying down next to her with something in his hands. It was a small present that he hid under the pillow tactically. Clara allowed him to do it, knowing John would have something special up his sleeve.

Clara smiled at him before reaching under the bed to pull out his present. She had kept this one out, like they did every year, so that it would be more special to them.

John looked at Clara cheekily before snatching the present into his hands. He opened it greedily and his face fell into one of wonder as he pulled out a platinum wrist brace.

Carved into it were the words 'I love you now and forever, your Clara xx'

He quickly clipped the band onto his wrist and lunged towards Clara, pushing her down on the bed in a passionate kiss. She surrendered into it, her arms looping around his neck as she returned the passion.

He whispered breathlessly in-between kisses, struggling to get his words out. "I- love you so- goddamn- much. -I love you- I love- you." He emphasised each of his words with another kiss, his hands twisting into her hair.

Clara kissed him back, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing his hips tight to her. "I love you too." She whispered as loud as she could manage as all air as sucked out of her body.

John's hands skimmed underneath her nightgown and Clara moaned as his fingers pressed against the thin, damp material of her underwear. They had barely gotten dressed since the mornings, throwing on some underwear to look decent and dressing gowns, but that was it.

She pushed her hips up into his body and she moaned again when she felt him pressed hard against her centre.

Her hands slid up his shirt and slowly removed it, her fingers trailing lines up and down the bare expense of his stomach. He grunted into her mouth, their lips becoming bruised from the ferocity of their kiss.

He took her bottom lip in-between his teeth and gently sucked, causing Clara to hum in approval and her hands to grip the skin on his hips with her nails, which were bound to leave marks the next morning.

John moved his mouth lower to suck on Clara's neck, his hands pulling her nightgown up over her hips, off her chest and over her head onto the floor. His hands immediately raced to her breasts, knowing just how much pressure to apply to them to make her moan. He knew everything about her body, inside and out, that could drive her senseless.

Clara's hands moved down to John boxers and she push her hand under the waistband, yanking them down quickly so she could thrust her hips into his to cause friction.

John cried out at the feeling and Clara hushed him so he remembered to be too loud in case of the kids. She silently thanked her stars that she had remembered to lock the door this time, considering the incident a few weeks ago when Heather had walked in at a rather awkward moment, which lead to John and Clara explaining the birds and bees to her.

She moved her hands back to her knickers and moved them down slowly, pressing each section of newly bared skin up against John.

He lay above her, his eyes tracing her body inside and out. He knew that if he kissed her just enough, then she would wrap her legs around him and crush his body to hers in a passionate hold.

Her legs tightened as John's mouth moved to her neck and she moaned once more, this time in frustration. John quickly got the message and he moved himself so he was positioned at her entrance, not needing to ask permission.

Clara lips locked onto his as he pushed into her and she gasped into the kiss lovingly. From then on, they started their waltz. Each move was perfectly in time with each other, never missing a beat. She traced john's skin with her fingertips with each thrust, to show him how much she loved him. Her fingers moved to the brace on his hand and she caressed it lovingly, making him smile into a kiss.

She knew John's thrusts were getting sloppy and she clenched her muscles around him, causing him to lose his balance. He placed open mouth kisses on her lips as he muffled his cries within her, reaching his climax.

He fell down beside Clara in a tangle of limbs. She smiled at him lovingly, leaning over to kiss his shoulder beside hers. John moved them around so they were facing each other, his arms wrapped tight around her.

Clara waited a minute or two in peaceful silence before John suddenly sat up, remembering what it was he had to say. He reached under his pillow in a dramatically silent scuffle and pulled out a small black box.

"I, umm..." John murmured, watching Clara's confused expression.

"I realised I'd never really married you." John whispered. "And...and I would really like to. Properly. I love you so Goddamn much and I just want to tell you properly, not something fake from God knows where. So, I want to marry you Clara. Will you? I mean, will you marry me?"

John smiled nervously up at her. she was still trying to understand in her head what the hell had just happened in the last few moments. Smiling at John, she nodded slowly and looked down. "Yes." She whispered, leaning in to kiss John gently on the lips.

John opened the box in happiness, whispering "yes, okay. she said yes," under his breath. He pulled out the ring and held it in front of his face.

"Well, I..." He started, unable to focus on his sentence for a moment. "I got a friend to send a letter to your father and...he sent me this. It was your Mother's." John murmured, looking up at Clara.

She blinked at John, her jaw dropped open as tears formed in her eyes. She blinked them away quickly and extended her hand so that John could slip the ring on top of her other wedding ring. Clara brought it to her lips and kissed it affectionately.

John leaned in to kiss Clara once more, his hand going to her thighs. Clara shuffled and moaned at the forgotten frustration from earlier. John pulled back and smile mischievously at Clara. "Time to finish what we started." He said, his voice lowering seductively.

Clara nodded, one eyebrows raised. "Let's see what you can do then." She challenged, leaning back onto the pillows to get lost in more and more pleasure.

And John hadn't told her the extent of what she meant to him, but he didn't need to. Because it was clear that she already knew and she felt the same.


	19. We Couldn't Go Unscathed

Clara sat at her desk eating a tuna salad, with Tom sat next to her, his feet resting on the table as she stared at him disapprovingly.

"How on Earth can we expect children to have decent manners when, the moment they leave the classroom, their teacher is doing what we have just told them not to do?" She huffed, quirking her eyebrows up at Tom.

Tom stuck his tongue out in return, flashing hi chicken sandwich on his tongue which made Clara fake vomit. He laughed at her and resumed his eating casually.

Clara watched him as he took each bite, a smile carved onto his face like clay. She began to grin knowingly and shifted her chair closer towards her best friend in a suspiciously friendly way.

Tom looked over his shoulder dramatically and raised his eyebrows. "What?" He sulked, like a teenager in their classes would.

"Oh, nothing." Clara mused, pursing her lips and she pretended to look around her surroundings innocently. "I just happen to know about...something to do with you." She teased, looking towards the ceiling as Tom faced her way and frowned in confusion.

Clara looked to him and giggled slightly before she chose to clarify. "And you're new boyfriend." She teased, sitting up straight and evening out her shoulders.

Tom opened his mouth to object, but then closed it and slumped back down into his chair in defeat. Clara opened her eyes wide in happiness and pointed at him gleefully.

"You do have a boyfriend!" She explained, jumping out of her seat to do a small victory twirl. "I knew it!" Tom rolled his eyes Clara punched the air dramatically before sitting back down.

"You're such a child sometimes." Tom said sarcastically, fist-pumping Clara's arm as she giggled.

"So what if I am?" She retorted, grinning from ear to ear. She moved her body so she was directly facing Tom and leant forward curiously, her arms on her knees. "So, what's he like?" She asked giddily, enjoying the look of frustration on Tom's face.

He looked up towards the wall and narrowed his eyes in concentration. "He's...brilliant. A really great guy." He said melodically, his mind almost in a dream. Clara's smile turned subtler at the way he spoke and turned into one of genuine admiration.

Clara reached her hand out to touch Tom's and he turned to face her happily. "What's he called?" She asked softly, preparing to reach in for a big hug in a few moments.

Tom looked down to his fingers hesitantly and then looked back up again. "Jack."

She grinned at him before diving forward, her arms wide to wrap him up in a consuming hug. "I'm so happy for you." She murmured into his ear, before pulling away and sitting back down, feeling happier than before.

They returned to eating their food, their atmosphere turning slightly awkward as the silence continued for a little too long. Clara looked to Tom at the same time as he did her, and they shared a smile which eventually turned into an awkward bout of giggles.

"So, how are things with John?" Tom asked cheerily, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Clara shrugged her shoulders. "Same as ever. As always, so damn grateful to have him there for me. I swear, that man is a saint sometimes."

Tom leaned in to murmur more quietly. "And...any contact from...them?"

Clara shook her head slowly. "No and thank God. Life is so...perfect right now. The kids are happy. I'm happy, John's happy. We have this cute little family, who I love. I'm getting re-married and...everything is kind of perfect." Clara whispered to herself, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across her face.

Tom nudged her with his arm, causing her to smile even more. "You're so love sick." He teased.

"You are too." Clara retorted, busying herself with the remains of her food as they grinned at each other endlessly.

* * *

 

"He's so sweet to Tom." Clara told John happily as she sat on her bed cross-legged. "I was really nervous about meeting him, but he's a charmer. Those guys will make an amazing couple, I swear."

John turned around from the cupboard, removing his shirt as he did so. Clara was already in a tank top and shorts and he walked over to the bed slowly, just so he could bend down to give her a kiss on the lips for how adorable she was being.

"I'm glad." John murmured, pecking her lips once more before standing back up to remove his trousers and to throw his clothes from the day into the wash basket, leaving him in his boxers. "Tom deserves someone nice after all this time."

"He really does." Clara agreed, reaching out to John to pull him onto the bed beside her, snuggling up into his side.

John hummed in agreement, smiling into Clara's hair as she kissed his chest a few times, her arms winding around his back. "You excited?" He whispering affectionately, his fingers trailing up and down Clara's back.

"For what?" She mumbled, smiling tiredly.

"For the wedding?" John murmured, tightening his grip on Clara. She nodded slowly and tightened her hold around him.

"Of course I am. It's all I've ever really wanted." She whispered, pulling herself up on the bed to move her lips to John's. Her hands moved to around his neck and she smiled as John pulled her in even closer, moving her so she was lying on top of him.

She pulled away with a soft smack of her lips, her nose still touching his. she bit her bottom lip, like she always did when she was happy or nervous, and looked into John's eyes. "How could I ever want anything other than this?" She asked rhetorically, her lips pulling into a light-hearted smile as she knew John was about to answer her question.

"Well..." He began, twisting his brow to show he was thinking. "You do have a point. I am very handsome if I do say so myself." John teased, grinning up to Clara for her approval. She lightly slapped his arm in return and leaned back.

"Oi, cocky!" She responded, kissing him once more for his jokes. That was one of the many, many things she had to love about him. He always made her feel happy and all warm inside.

Lying her head down on his chest, she looked up at him and smiled, before shutting her eyes peacefully. "Did you get the hotel booked?" Clara asked warmly, her nails tracing random patterns into a small circle on John's chest.

"Yeah, definitely. It's July 16th, like you asked, which shocked me considering it's a Saturday." John rambled, stroking Clara's soft hair with his fingers. "And, I even went looking for tuxes for me and Charlie. Can't have a best man without a good tux."

Clara shook her head, smiling happily. "I dread to think what the stag-do will be. Race track with colouring crayons?" Clara teased.

John laughed and shrugged his shoulders happily. "Well, you never know." He smiled, earning him another kiss from Clara.

"I love you two so much. And Heather too. She will be a beautiful bridesmaid." Clara mused, almost to herself but she knew that John could hear it quite clearly.

"And you..." John moved his hand to poke Clara on the nose. "Miss Clara Smith, will be the most beautiful bride creation has ever seen."

As much as she wanted to be modest about it, Clara was too happy to say anything and simply turned away to avoid John's loving glare. He took but a few seconds before he'd moved her chin back to face him and whispered to her. "It's true."

* * *

 

"Heather, Charlie, go and get ready for bed!" Clara told the children as their eyes remained glued to the television. She grabbed the plates from the dinner off the dining room table and took them through to the kitchen slowly, her eyes drooping shut after the long day at work. She'd had all of her worst groups and now, all she wanted to do was sleep.

John came up behind Clara as she piled the dishes up in the sink, vowing to do them the next day, and kissed her neck slowly.

"John, I'm tired." Clara mumbled, not really sure whether or not it was a protest or an encouragement. John took that as the latter and carried on delicately peppering her neck with kisses, which allowed her to close her eyes and relax for a moment.

"Know the feeling." He hummed into her neck, his arms winding around her body to lock around her waist. Clara melted back into his arms and rested there momentarily, allowing her brain to go to a peaceful place.

John had a way of making her feel like she could be calm and safe and happy, without even trying. It was a second nature to him and Clara treasured it more than he knew.

"The kids are still watching the TV, aren't they?" Clara murmured, bracing herself to move from John's arms.

"Just, let them." John whispered, tightening his hold so that Clara would relax once more. "It won't do them much harm to go to bed a little later so you can relax."

Clara allowed this thought to run through her head for two minutes, before finally pushing John away so that she could deal with them properly. "Be right back." She whispered to John, kissing his cheek affectionately as she left the room.

John followed shortly after and raised his eyebrows when they saw the children in the same places as they'd left them, looking guiltily at one another.

"Bed. Now." John commanded, watching as the children obeyed silently and ran upstairs to their rooms.

Clara smiled towards John, thankful that she wouldn't have to tell them off as she felt in no way to do so. "Thank you." Clara smiled, taking the few small steps over to him and giving him a hug. "God knows what I would have done without you."

John smiled back in return. Clara was shocked when he didn't pull out some cheesy or cocky reply, but she knew he'd taken what she'd said for what it was and it meant even more to her than usual that he was thinking about it.

They walked up the stairs slowly together, departing at the top to go and say goodnight to each child. Clara opened Heather's bedroom door to find no-one there. she tutted, turning to John who nodded at her when he found both children in Charlie's room. Heather was reading to Charlie and they smiled up at their parents when they walked in the room.

"Charlie wanted to know what The Chalet School was about, so I'm reading the first one to him." Heather explained, as John and Clara knelt down beside the boy's bed. He was already in his pyjamas, although Heather was not. Clara didn't mind though and she felt that familiar warmth rush through her body, like whenever she felt proud or happy of something her family did or said.

Heather continued to read, captivating Clara and John as she did so. Her voice was rather melodic, able to make them all tune in and to pay attention.

The small snoring alerted Clara to the fact that Charlie had fallen asleep at some point and Heather nodded to her to say that she would stop reading. She pulled a bookmark from beside where she was sitting, and placed it inside the book so that they could read the rest at another time.

As Heather moved, Clara caught the small boy's body and moved it under his bed covers so that he was comfortable.

They all tried to leave the room as quietly as they could, unsuccessfully as Charlie opened his eyes. "Night Mummy. Night Daddy." He whispered, smiling towards them as they turned off the light and shut the door carefully.

"I'm just going to the bathroom." Heather explained as she walked away, leaving John and Clara alone in the corridor.

"You okay?" John asked Clara as she huffed her shoulders.

She nodded happily, leaning forward as John's arms opened up and he rub bed her back comfortingly. "Just really exhausted." She explained, allowing herself the moment of warmth that John submitted.

For Clara, this kind of comfort was normal now. She always knew that John would be there to protect her through anything. He would always hold her hand and make her feel better. For Clara, this was normal.

Maybe she wouldn't have taken that little moment for granted so much if she'd have known it would be her last moment of normalcy she'd ever experience. Any like this, in any case.

Clara and John averted their attention to the front door as they heard a loud crash and a sudden array of men shouting.

Clara ran to the banister of their home to see lots of armed men in black roaming around their house, guns held in front of them. A few began to run up the stairs and she panicked, screaming out for Charlie and Heather as John gripped onto her arm protectively.

She felt the tug of Charlie on her shirt from behind and she held him tight by her side. She looked around for Heather as the men got closer, relieved to see her daughter clung to her Father's side.

As the men approached, they held up their guns to Clara and John and Heather screamed, burying her face in Johns shirt. Clara clung onto Charlie as tight as she could, hearing his small sobs and she felt one hit his body.

As two men stopped, guns aimed at the family, two other men grabbed John's arms and dragged him forward in front of him, onto his knees with their weapons aimed at his head. John tried to fight, punching around, but more men came around to restrain them.

"Get off him!" Clara screamed, trying to run forward but finding herself somehow being held back, probably by more men. She knew that she was screaming, but she could barely hear herself as her hysterical state hit her.

From behind, she heard Heather and Charlie crying. She turned to face them and felt her heart drop as a man grabbed them both and pulled them up into his arms. They screamed at the action and Clara ran forward to punch the man in the gut.

He lowered the children just enough so Clara could grip tight to them and pull them away, screaming their names as she gripped their hands tight.

She ran towards John who was being hoisted up onto his knees and found herself face-to-face with a gun.

She froze and the house went silent, John staring at her from the corner of her eye. He was looking down to the floor, panicked and unsure of what was going on.

"Who are you?" Clara managed to say, holding her children tighter than ever as she had to suppress the urge to reach out for John.

One of the men moved from his position. He was quite clearly in charge and he removed the black helmet that had covered his face before. He walked over to Clara and patted her shoulder sympathetically, causing her to flinch in anger and fear.

"It's okay Ma'am. We're the police." The guy said, a strong Birmingham accent coming through. Clara flinched at his tone, anger swelling up in her veins.

"What do you want?" John asked cautiously, hearing the guns twitch in the men's' hands.

"Are you John Smith?" The man turned around to face John, who nodded quickly.

"Oh really?" The man asked mockingly, nodding his head so that the men who had their weapons aimed at his head hoisted him up onto his feet holding his shoulders. "Or is it...Nikolai?"

Clara felt her breath shorten and she saw the panic in John's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." John said firmly, looking over to Clara. "Please, just let me go." He begged with all his will, trying to reassure the children that it was okay. It was against everything he'd ever been taught to beg, but it was no longer about what he'd been taught and it was now about keeping his family safe.

Clara let go of Heather's hand for a moment so she could hit the guy in the face. His reflexes were quicker than she'd imagined and he caught in quickly. "I'm so sorry Miss. But your husband isn't who he says he is." He said slowly. He sounded pitiful and that was when it hit Clara that he only knew about John. He thought she was innocent.

"His name is John Smith." Clara re-affirmed, taking her children with her as she walked slowly forward. "Please, we don't know what you're talking about."

John looked towards Clara, knowing that her attempts were pointless. If they had his real name then someone had spilled, which meant there was no way out of it.

The man walked back towards John and lowered his voice, so that Clara and the children couldn't hear. "Do you know why we are here?" He asked lowly, watching John's every move.

Instead of trying to deny it, John simply nodded. He could hear Clara gasp from nearby, knowing what he was about to do.

"Please, don't say it in front of the kids. They don't need to know." John whispered, praying that they wouldn't be so cruel. The man simply nodded and then did the same to his men.

All at once, John was dragged down the stairs quickly and out of his house. He could hear Clara screaming from behind him as she chased the men.

"John!" She screamed, as the men from behind her caught her at the entrance to her home. She could see him being dragged away into a police car at the end of her drive and she kept on screaming out to him.

The neighbours around came outside to see what was going on. They were greeted with the sight of Clara screaming and crying as John was taken away.

He caught one last glimpse of her, distraught and confused, before they shut the police car door and drove off.

The moment the car was gone, the guards let Clara go. She ran to the middle of her garden, still crying. When she realised he'd gone, she fell down onto the grass and curled up in a ball, her fists clenched. She let out a loud scream of anger and frustration. She could feel the remaining guards' eyes on her and from the people around, but she didn't care.

Even when the small hands of her children came to rest on her back, nothing soothed her. Even when she was told that she would be taken to see John and all would be explained, nothing softened the aching in her stomach and the pain in her hurt.

Because Clara knew what this was. This was the short straw, which meant that it was all over.


	20. We Had No Choice

Everything happened way too fast for Clara. At some point in the few minutes she had been left crying in the freezing cold, someone had picked her up and taken her to a car.

She could only remember reaching for her children as the cold air bit her skin with a raging force that made her feel lost and full of fear. All around her, people were saying things, but she could only hear faint murmurs of what she presumed were words.

She could feel the contrast from the warmth of her tears that ran down her cheeks to the icy air, but she didn't even try to bat them away. She vaguely remembered someone telling her that she would be escorted to the police station and everything would be explained, but she couldn't identify when about that was.

She remembered looking back at her house as it was torn apart, looking for information. No doubt they would find something, whether that be a gun or a letter. They'd burned most of their things from Russia when the Soviet Union was disbanded, but weapons and papers to defend themselves remained.

She was now sat in the back seat of a police car, silently looking out of the window. She could hear the small sniffles from Charlie next to her, but she couldn't do anything more than hold his hand. To look at him would be to confirm what was already running rough her thoughts, and she didn't think she could take it anymore.

Outside, the traffic raced by. People in the streets were still laughing and partying as they always had. How could they still do that? How could they be so blind that nothing would ever be the same again?

Clara didn't say a word as she was taken into the building and sat down in a small office. She watched as the children fell asleep on the chairs they were seated in, unable to fight off the exhaustion from that day.

Clara couldn't sleep, she didn't dare. She could stop thinking about what this meant for her; for John.

If they knew he was Russian, then they could do anything to him. If they find out she was Russian too, they'd undoubtedly take the children. They'd be sent away with no knowledge of what was going on, or worse, they would be told things about Clara and John that, although they may have necessarily been true, would sound awful and they wouldn't be given the chance to explain themselves.

They were too young to live without a father. Clara knew what it was like to lose a Mother, and it had destroyed her. But to know that they would lose him and it was her fault in some way would not only destroy them, but her too.

He was the only person in the world who knew every single one of her secrets. He was the only person who allowed her to feel safe. He' given her everything she'd always been told she would never have, and that made him her hero. He'd only ever done what he'd been told, her too, so he didn't deserve to be treated this way.

All it would take would be a call to the Russian embassy and a few threats to uncover his true identity and confirm it. Then they could do whatever they wanted. Russia might try to have him sent back home, but he would be banned from most of Europe and almost definitely England. And even if they didn't, that could mean anything for him. He could be put in prison or tortured for information, or even killed. And if he was sent back to Russia he might be killed for being caught.

It would ruin Clara if he was killed. She wouldn't be able to survive. It would be like ripping her heart from her chest and squeezing it until it was bled dry, then expecting it to still function properly and for her to just carry on as if everything was normal.

The white walls that surrounded Clara provided no sort of comfort and she began to feel like they were closing in on her, threatening everything she loved.

* * *

 

John sat in the dingy room, calmly taking a few breaths. He had to find a way out of this. there was no way he could allow this to happen. His family were his everything. He'd rather die than lose them.

They'd left him in there for two whole hours, expecting him to do something. He'd always thought that he'd ever betray the Motherland, but now, when he thought about it, he would do it if it meant protecting his family.

The only thing that provided him any sort of comfort was the knowledge that they hadn't been after Clara. They only suspected him. He knew that he wouldn't give her in, no matter what. Anything that would compromise Clara was not worth living for.

He could still hear her panicked screams as he was take away. He'd caught a brief glimpse of her face before he'd been taken away. That image haunted everywhere he looked. He knew he had to do anything to protect her.

Two men walked into the room after a couple more minutes, remaining silent as they sat down. They opened a file which they carried in with them, looking at old photos

One by one they laid out photographs in front of him, of him in lots of different disguises. John couldn't identify from when exactly they were, but he knew they were from security videos before he'd killed major British assets.

In a few of them, he saw the back of Clara's head, which he was grateful for. It wouldn't have taken them too long to identify Clara had she been investigated too.

Their disguises had always been good, but not good enough to completely make them look different. A couple of photos and information would be far enough for them to caught.

The man opposite John cleared his throat and put his hands flat on the table, nudging the other person next to him. "I'm detective Ryland." The man said simply, staring at John.

John stayed silent and simply nodded his understanding, feeling like he was being threatened by them simply sitting there, which, in fact, he was.

"Do you deny that you are a Russian sleeper agent sent here by the KGB?" the man asked, staring intently at John's face to witness his reactions.

John took a short breath before he slowly shook his head and stared properly at the man. He looked young, but was clearly in a higher authority than his age should allow. There was no look of doubt in the man's face and John knew that it was useless trying to deny anything now. "No." John mumbled.

He looked down to his hands and thought of what this would do to Clara. She would probably be panicking right now. He hoped to God that she had the children. They would so scared.

"So you admit that you are in fact a Russian spy who has committed crimes against The United Kingdom of Great Britain." The other man finally said, nodding towards tinted glass behind him, which John knew was double sided so that other people could witness the conversation.

"Yes." John said a bit louder, looking up to their faces. they nodded to each other in approval before turning the page in there folder and reading it slowly.

"If you agree to co-operate with us then we might be able to spare what will happen to you. Even if we let you off, the Russians will not be happy. So, what do you say?"

John thought it over for a while, hesitating as to what they would want to know. He still knew information that could bring down whole governments. But if he told and was then sent back to Russia, he'd be killed for treason.

"Think about your wife and kids." The other man said again. John looked up at this, re-considering his own argument. "You don't have to lose them."

John shut his eyes as he fought his inner arguments. Even though it was against everything he'd ever been taught, he knew what his final decision had to be.

"Fine. I'll tell you anything you want to know." John said simply, looking over to the glass to think about the consequences of these actions. He knew what happened to the traitors, even now. He'd been the one to kill them before.

After a few moments of quiet murmuring from the men opposite him, they both stood up and began to circle his chair. "Tell us the details of our mission."

John nodded, slowly thinking about he'd have to change to leave Clara out of this. He just prayed to God that she would have thought up the exact same backup. They'd always been in synch that way.

"I came here when I was twenty-one years old. My mission was to find a British wife so that I would have a solid identity. We were to live in the Nations' capitol and I was to infiltrate anything I could from where I lived. I was often sent out on missions to do hits on people or to gain intel."

John hesitated before speaking any more, not wanting to give away more than he absolutely had to. He still had a duty to protect something, although this was not the same cause as before.

"That seems to add up." Ryland mumbled, walking to sit back down as the other detective remained standing. "But what I want to know is, who are you really?"

John swallowed before taking a breath. he rarely spoke of his past life to anyone, let alone to police men. "My full name is Nikolai Dolzhikov. I was brought up in an orphanage in Moscow. The KGB recruited me when I was nineteen for this mission. I was the best in my class at English."

* * *

 

Clara jumped as the door opened to the office. A man had been monitoring them from the corner of the room and stood when someone else entered. They began to speak in hushed tones, wary of the sleeping children.

Clara vaguely heard them say something about how John was talking. Her heart dropped at this news and she panicked. What had he told them so far? He could see them watching her from the corner of their eyes and she turned away so that she didn't look like she was listening in.

She could see Heather stirring nearby, but her heart was still pounding as she tried to listen in to what it was they were saying about John.

"Mum?" Heather whispered meekly, causing Clara to stand up and go to Heather so she could soothe her back to sleep. As she rocked the girl, she thought over the whole situation in her head. she felt completely useless.

* * *

 

"There's only one more thing we need to know Nikolai." John flinched every time the used his real name. He hated it and that much was clear to the detectives. He'd told them everything, including all the traitors in the British government. He had only changed some details and they were to do with Clara.

John nodded slowly willing to give them anything. They'd only asked for small things, which John was grateful for. He'd only told them the names of British traitors and kept everyone Russian out of the mix though. He was being careful to only tell them things that weren't still necessary to Russia, but would be valuable to them. And to think that the cold war was supposedly over.

They laid out some more photographs in front of him and John froze. He knew what was coming before the wave hit and crashed him down flat on the sand.

"Who is this woman in all of these pictures with you?" Each shot was only from the side or behind, which John thanked his stars for, but he knew there was no way he could lie about this.

John shook his head and stayed silent this time, causing the men in the room to start looking warily at each other. They hit the table with a hand once to tell him to hurry up, but he refused to speak. He wouldn't say it. He would never divulge that name.

"Who is she?" They asked once more, making John look up in anger.

"I have told you things that could have me killed by my country. I have told you things that actually matter and I will tell you anything else you want, but not this. Anything but this." His voice was calm, but it broke at the end and they knew they'd hit a soft spot.

They kept on trying to press the matter, but John kept silent. They could do anything to him and he knew that he still wouldn't tell them. This was the one thing he had a real duty to protect, and he would die doing it.

They kept trying to ask him other questions before diverting back to this one, but each time he stayed silent. They began to realise that this was the one thing he was protecting.

He could hear them whispering about his wife and he knew that they strongly suspected her. He would have killed them on the spot if he found out they were interrogating her or the kids.

At that moment a knock came at the door and all heads turned back towards them. Ryland ran to the door and the man said clearly, "Just called the wife's parents in Blackpool. Her identity checks out."

John heaved a small sigh of relief, grateful that the people posing as Clara's Dad was still loyal to them. He was a Russian that had lived in England since 1922, but agreed to help the KGB in all they needed.

John wasn't stupid. He was aware that they would now be discussing what to do with him. they'd wanted him to tell them that his wife was guilty too, and they suddenly stopped going on about the woman in the photos. Instead, they left the room without saying anything, giving time for John to reflect on the events of that night.

He knew there was no way this would end well for him. He was stupid if he'd allowed himself to believe that he would ever e allowed to go home. He'd just admitted to killing over one hundred people and major treason. He would never get out of this, no matter what information he gave them in return. There was no way he could save himself now. At least he knew that Clara was safe.

As the men returned to the room, John froze up. He could see in their faces that they were satisfied by something and it made John want to wipe that smug look of every single on of their faces.

"We made a call to the Russian embassy." They said simply. John took a deep breath and knew that this was his verdict. This was the end of it all.

And as they said the words, he felt his heart and soul collapse. He wanted to scream out to the entire world and beg them for forgiveness. He needed to get someone to hear his voice.

The worst part was, in this place, when you screamed, everyone could hear you but nobody ever listened. No-one was ever going to listen to his silent pleas. His sentence was set and there was nothing he could do about it.

A small tear ran down his cheek, not to miss the attention of the detectives. He swore he could see one of them look slightly guilty, but the other one still managed to look as smug as ever. Did they even know what they had done? Had they even thought about what was going to happen to his whole family because of this? Of course they hadn't, because they didn't give a shit. The whole world didn't give a shit. He was just another fly in a grown men's game.

* * *

 

Clara sat bolt upright as she heard her name being said. "What is it?" she asked quickly, hoping for some sort of answer finally. "What do you want?"

The woman staring at her looked at her pitifully and she wanted to slap the expression of her face. How dare she have any right to pity her. It was her fault she was in the damn police station in the first place; her and her group of meddling twats.

"Come with us." They asked kindly, extending a warm hand to the door. Clara hesitantly kissed Charlie and Heather on the foreheads, nodding to the man in there to look after them as they slept. she knew that Heather was only pretending to be asleep for her sake, but she was slightly grateful for it as she wasn't sure if she could cope with everything in this second.

She followed the woman down several corriors. Each one seemed to et loner and loner as she knew she could be getting closer to John.

The white washed walls were closing in on her once more and she felt extremely suffocated. Al her worst fears were coming to life and she knew that at the end of this walk, her fate could be decided; their fate. Either way, she lost everything. She knew she wasn't prepared for that.

She wasn't prepared to lose the small kisses John gave her when she was tired or the way he held her. She wasn't prepared to lose the way Heather always gave her a hug outside the school gates, even if her friends stared. She wasn't prepared to give up the night-time hugs Charlie gave her on the sofa as they watched a movie past his bedtime. She wasn't ready to lose everything she called her family. Not even if she got to say I Love You one last time.

The woman opened a door to her left and stood aside so Clara could walk in. As she took one step in and looked up, she saw John standing in the corner of the room.

Without any hesitation, her legs took her to him as quickly as she could, wrapping her arms around his body with a sob. He instinctively greeted her and tried to calm her shaking shoulders.

She could feel his heartache in the way he tried to soothe her and his voice was cracked from angles. It was more broken than she'd ever heard it in the entire time she'd known him.

"Clara." He whispered, pulling back so that he could cup her face in his hands and kiss each of her wet cheeks lightly before pressing an apologetic kiss to her soft lips.

"Don't." Clara whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, Don't, don't say it." She begged to herself, but she could see John's eyes had shut as he fought his inner instincts to fight his way out of the situation and get away.

"In exactly two hours, I'm being sent on a flight back to Moscow." Clara's breath hitched and she waited for the inevitable end to that sentence. the few words that were preparing to shred her very self into confetti so it could be spread around and stood on like dirt on the side of the road.

"And I can never come back."


	21. I'll Never Regret You

 

Clara felt her world collapse around her as they hit the iceberg. The cold froze up her limbs as she was burning so hot she knew she was about to dissolve into tiny particles. She felt like the Hiroshima bomb, splitting apart at the core as everything she'd ever feared came to life. Bullet wounds pierced her chest one after the other and glass sliced open her soul so that everyone could see it. Then they crawled inside and caused even more damage, taking away anything that had ever made her feel human and leaving behind an empty shell that was still breathing, but only by force.

"No." She whispered surely, shaking her head as tears fogged up her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Clara, this was never supposed to happen..." John began, reaching forward to pull her into his arms.

But she could feel him or see him or hear him. She could only feel the impact of the crash that just destroyed her and kept on muttering her denial as John tried to talk to her.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Clara mumbled. "No, this is a nightmare. I just need to scream and wake up. Please, make this stop. It's not true. It's not true."

John allowed his tears to fall freely as he gripped Clara's shoulders tightly. His hands were shaking, but Clara suddenly turned silent as she stared into his eyes. She'd never seen him i such a well of despair and she knew that there was nothing she could do to get him out of it this time. This time it was forever and she couldn't save him.

He couldn't save her. they'd always been there to save each other, but now they couldn't. They'd been cut apart and expected to live with only half of their bodies still functioning. No-one understood. She couldn't live without him by her side. There was no way she could carry on without him.

He min d flashed through all of the moments she shared with hi. John had always spoken of how the small things counted, but she couldn't remember much. she should never have let those small things slide. She should have remembered every single thing about John because she knew, she knew one day she might forget. And what would happen then? What would happen on the day where her children might ask her about their Dad and she can't remember anything?

What about the kids? What would they do without their father? What would she tell them? How could she tell them?

"I'm sorry Clara." john whispered, snapping her put of her gaze as what was left of her composure snapped and she broke out screaming.

"No!" She cried out, clinging onto John's arms for support. "No, it's not fair! This is not fucking fair! Take it back, take it back!" She screamed towards the glass.

John pulled her tightly into his chest so that she could sob there and it made her screams die down. She couldn't do this without him. He was the only person who knew how to soothe her tears and how to keep her sane.

"You have to be strong." He whispered, kissing her forehead slowly. "You have to be strong for Heather and for Charlie. They'll need you. They won't have anyone else."

Clara shook her head. "They have you. They need you." She whimpered, closing her eyes tight shut as she absorbed the feel of his warmth, knowing she would never feel it again.

"I won't even be allowed to send letters." John laughed lifelessly, "They won't ever know anything about me." He held Clara tighter and allowed a sob to shake his body.

Clara shook her head slowly, taking his head in her hands and kissing him once more. "They know you better than anyone. they don't need to know facts so that they can know you. They saw the real you, and that's all they'll ever need." She whispered.

John leaned down to kiss her passionately, cradling her head in his hands. His fingers twisted in her hair and she wrapped her arms around his neck, never willing to let go. The kiss was full of passion and love, forgiveness and apologies and of hurt and damage. John memorised the way her lips fit so perfectly with his and how she poured her every being into the kiss. He memorised how her tiny body fit so perfectly next to his, despite the height difference and how her hair felt so silky soft beneath his fingers. He remembered how she ran her fingers through his hair whenever she needed comfort and how she allowed him to hold her, even when she said she didn't want him to. He etched her voice into his brain, every time she told him she loved him or every time she told him her inner promises when she thought he was asleep. He knew that he might forget it one day, but for now he could embrace it and make sure he never lost the one thing that kept him alive.

"I love you so much." John choked as he pulled away from the kiss, gripping Clara in a firm hug. She responded quickly, never allowing herself to stop touching him.

"I love you too. I love you more than you'll ever know, and then some." She sobbed, knowing that no matter what she said it still wouldn't be enough to convey the way she felt for him.

"I know. I love you that way too." He whispered. "I love everything we've ever had together. I love the way you smile at me and I love the feel of your touch. I love you voice and the way you speak and your laugh. I love your sarcasm and I love you whenever you tease me. I love every little thing about you, even the things you hate." His words were mostly a jumble of nonsense, but he meant every single thing he said. He knew she wouldn't believe it, but he had to say it. He had to make sure she heard it before there was never a chance to say it again.

He was aware of the people on the other side of glass who were watching them. He wanted to speak directly to them, to ask them if they were happy now as they watched as his whole world collapsed around him. He wanted to see if they even cared or if they were just as heartless as their actions deemed them to be. Even if they did care, they weren't going to do anything for them. They would later pity Clara for her loss and say they feel sorry for the children, but they had done their jobs successfully and it didn't matter who was damaged in the way as they did so.

This was war as cold as it was said to be. The people who fought it had ice in their hearts. It wasn't about fighting for a better life. This was about people getting their own way, and they didn't care who or what got torn apart in the process. In the end, the game is all about winning. People spout all that crap about how taking part is good, but even once it's over the opponents will still do anything to win. And they will cheat and lie and cause everyone else more hurt than before, but it doesn't matter, as long as they win. Clara and John were just pawns in a never-ending game that no-one will ever win. And they were used by the hands of two icy competitors.

"Ya lyooblyoo Vas" John whispered, hearing John choke at the words. they were just quiet enough so that the people in the other room could not hear them, but they still meant everything to Clara.

"Bol'she vsego" Clara whispered quieter in return. She knew John had heard it when he smiled softly and kissed her forehead.

"I thought we would grow old together. Count the grey hairs in the shower. Watch our children grow up as they have children, and maybe even meet their children if we got lucky." John whispered regretfully. "I'll never see them grow up." He repeated, almost to himself and he fell onto his knees at the thought.

He'd never know what kind of people they would become. He'd never be able to help Charlie when he felt lost or threaten any of Heather's ex-boyfriends when they gave her grief. He wouldn't be able to be the Dad that he'd always swore he would be. They would end up fatherless, just like he had. He didn't want them to have to live through that. He'd never wanted them to live through that.

At first, he felt like he regretted the entire mission, but that was when he realised that the kids wouldn't even be there if it wasn't for that. He just wished he'd been more careful. He still wasn't sure what it was that had got him caught. He'd pressed at the matter but they'd refused to tell him. Something had been mentioned about him being in the system after a false domestic abuse call. He winced at that memory, not knowing how he'd ever been able to hurt Clara. That time was a grey area in his memory. He'd had many ups and downs with Clara, but none of that mattered. Not now, not ever. Each second he had left with Clara was golden to him. And as the clock ticked by, he found himself feeling like he had to tell her every thought he'd ever had about her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he simply held his hands in his knees and sobbed onto the floor.

He felt Clara's hand rub his back and she sat down in front of him, taking her hands in his and grasping them tight. "I don't care about the past or what's going to happen to us." She whispered, finally finding it in herself to stop her tears. "All I care about is here and now and how much I love you. I love you so damn much and I never ever want you to forget it."

John nodded slowly. "How could I ever forget you? I could never forget a single moment of the time I spent with you." He whispered back, looking up to see her warm brown eyes waiting there to comfort him.

They were his home. As he stared into them, he suddenly felt like everything might actually be okay. They may have been filled with despair and hurt, but they still shone through like the stars and he knew he'd always be able to find them, as long as he looked hard enough.

"I feel like I have nothing left to say but there's so much that I want to tell you at the same time." Clara mumbled, leaning forward to rest in John's lap.

"I feel that way too." John replied, kissing her cheek before pulling her in as close as possible.

He began to think about all the times he had held Clara this way, or any way at all. And then he realised that no matter how many times he told her he loved her, nothing would amount to actually expressing it.

So he began to whisper every little thing he remembered about her that may have never mattered at all, but they meant something important to him.

He told her all about the time he had spent an hour telling his co-worker all about her until they actually had to slap him out of it. It made Clara giggle and he knew he would do anything to elicit that sound once more.

In return, Clara told him all of the little things she has made note of. He wondered how he'd ever forgotten the little things she spoke of. She told him about the one time they'd had a water fight over doing the washing up and Clara had just kept thinking about how much she loved this man.

They spoke of the passionate nights and the loving fights that made them giggle. They also spoke of how much they regretted the arguments, but how, through all that, they knew that they loved each other more.

* * *

 

Heather opened her eyes when she felt a small tug on her arm. Charlie was facing her and she looked into his eyes. He was clearly crying. She knew he was scared and she was too. They had no idea what was going on. Heather had seen her Mum crying earlier, but she wasn't about to tell Charlie that. She just knew that she would have to be strong for Charlie as Clara was gone.

She sat him in her lap and allowed him to sleep. She shut her eyes too, cautious of her surroundings. A short while later, she heard a door open and two men began to speak to each other. they clearly thought the children were asleep as they began to explain some details of what they called "An operation."

Heather listened as intently as she could, puzzled as to what they were talking about.

"I feel so sorry for the poor woman, the kids too." One man said, sounding the opposite of what he just said. "I think the wife did know though, from the way she is acting in there. But the kids probably don't. He apparently told the chief of the pick-up mission that he didn't want them to know."

The other guy made a noise that sounded like he was agreeing with him. "Well, it's a lucky break that we even caught the guy."

"How did that even happen?"

"Well, we discovered that one of those science firms had actually been under Soviet control. We guessed that some people that were spies might be working for it. When we were looking through the employees record, we found a note under his name. There's been a domestic abuse call a few years earlier that turned out to be apparently fake. But then someone said his face fit a few pictures they had and it didn't take long before they realised that he was the guy we were looking for."

Heather opened one of her eyes. Russian? Spies? They couldn't have been talking about her Dad. Her Dad hated the Russians, or so she'd always assumed.

"What about the wife? I thought they said she might be involved?"

"Nah, they called her Dad up in Whitby or somewhere like that. She checked out fine."

Heather began to pretend to stir and the gentlemen immediately quietened. They walked over to her and she sat up, moving her body to one side as she shook Charlie so he would wake too.

"Where's my Mum and Dad?" She said angrily, staring at the men as they looked to each other, unsure of what to do.

"Umm..." One of them said slowly, but he wasn't sure if he should supply the answer of not.

"I can tell that you know." She said stubbornly. She'd always been called confident by her Mum, but even she was shocked by her own bravery. "Were you just talking about them?"

At that point Charlie began to fully wake and he looked around. Heather stayed silent, not willing for him to hear any of this. He may have been eight, but he was still only a boy. He didn't need to hear anything bad about his parents.

When she'd first heard it, Heather didn't know how on Earth they could have been Russians. But the she thought about how many secrets there used to be in her house. There were the places she wasn't meant to go into. She wasn't supposed to snoop and she had to allow Mum and Dad to have private time. They'd barely enforced that in about two years any more, but it used to be so much stricter .But spies were like a children's book. They weren't something that you actually came across in your life, were they? Heather wasn't sure any more of what was the truth and what was not.

It was in that moment that Heather felt like she needed her parents more than ever, never mind who they were. But this was the time that she simply couldn't have them, and she no longer knew what she should do.

* * *

 

Clara held onto John. They were now stood in the corner It had taken a while for them to stand up again, but now the tears were dry and they both felt empty. The anger and pain was gone and now they were left with these few moments. Clara felt like these passing seconds should be happy, yet she felt anything but that.

You know," Clara whispered, finally able to make sense of something in her head. "I have and always will die a thousand deaths just to save you. And now...I'm not saving you. And it kills me." She admitted shamefully, looking down to the floor.

John tapped Clara's chin and she looked up slowly, seeing him stare at her lovingly. "I would rather die than ever allow you to do that." John said slowly, head in his hands as he spoke. "But, you've always saved me. You're impossible that way. My impossible girl."

Clara smiled sadly, shutting her eyes to prevent any more tears from falling. "I'll always be yours." Clara whispered, opening her eyes to stare at John seriously. He needed to know that, he couldn't ever forget that one little thing.

"As I am yours." John replied, smiling back. The look he gave her reminded Clara of all the times he'd ever stared at her in that way. It was the face he always saved for only her; the one she liked to save in her mind for later and think about whenever she felt down.

"We did it good, didn't we? We had a good run?" Clara mumbled hesitantly, biting her lip questioningly. John nodded slowly, moving his lips to her forehead and simply resting them there. Just the feel of her warm touch underneath his was sustaining him and he felt whole with it.

"Yeah. Yeah, we did. And you know what?" John whispered, making Clara stare into his eyes intently. "I wouldn't change one single second of what we had together."

Clara nodded once more, inhaling shakily as she shut her eyes tight. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you." She admitted. She'd always seen herself as so independent, but she never realised just how much she actually needed John by her side. Just knowing he'd be next to her as she slept brought some comfort and she couldn't stand the thought of the empty bed that she would soon have to become acquainted with.

"You're going to live." John said simply, as sure as he could be. "You're going to bring u Heather and Charlie as brilliant adults and you're going to move on. Because, that's what we do. We survive."

Clara nodded quickly. It made not have been the words directly, but that was her promise to him; that she would find a way to live without him.

At that moment, the door behind them opened and they both turned around to look at who it was.

Heather was holding Charlie's hand as the boy rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Dad?" Heather whispered, looking only towards her Father. "Dad, please, what's going on?"


	22. The Borders of My Heart

John inhaled sharply, watching as his daughter took two anxious steps into the dismal room. It was more than evident that both John and Clara had been crying and Heather eyed them worriedly, scared of what it was she'd have to endure too.

Charlie hid behind his sister, looking towards them uncertainly. He clearly wanted to run to them, but there must have been something in the way Heather was gripping it him that made him feel lie he couldn't.

"Mum?" Heather turned her head to Clara, whose muscles all froze up. Behind them, the door slammed shut. Everyone in the room flinched except the young girl and John hated how far away they were stood.

"Heather." John whispered apologetically, looking towards her with some kind of plea for forgiveness which she didn't even understand.

That was all it took before Heather dissolved back into her panicked, childlike state, running towards John with all she had and jumping up into his arms as she clung tight to his neck, her knees gripping into his sides.

John rubbed her back comfortingly, kissing her temple as he could hear small sniffles next to his ear.

"I thought they were going to kill you Dad." She whispered to him, gripping tighter. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "I saw them aim those guns and it was like an action movie, and I thought you would die."

John shook his head and held her tight. He could see Clara pick up Charlie from the corner of his eye, her doing the same to the small boy.

"I promise you Heather," He mumbled, kissing her smooth hair occasionally in-between words, "I'm not going to die."

John hesitated before speaking again, unsure if the truth would be much worse. He was going to be sent away, but ever allowed to see them again.

Heather choked a sob and kissed his cheek sadly. "Then why are you crying Daddy?" She replied, leaning back to stare hi in the face.

John couldn't do it. He couldn't tell them the truth. Not there. Not then.

But he had to, or they'd hate him forever.

"Because I love you very, very much." John said simply, nodding to re-affirm his own answer. "And I need you to promise me that you won't ever forget that, no matter what happens."

Heather furrowed her brow. "Of course I promise." She said hesitantly, "But I don't understand why it's so important if you're safe now?" John slowly put the girl down on the ground, crouching so he was just slightly smaller than her. He turned to Clara who had her eyes closed to avoid more tears.

"Charlie?" He whispered, making the boy in Clara's arms turn around to face him. At that cue, Clara put him down and Charlie walked to stand in front of John.

John gently poked both Charlie and Heather on the nose, smiling at them. He loved their noses, simply because they were Clara's and he found them really adorable.

"Both of you." John mumbled, "I need you to both promise me that you know how much I love you."

Heather nodded once again, Charlie copying his sister. "We promise Daddy." Charlie answered quickly, reaching out his arms to be accepted into a hug. He was clearly tired and John knew that he was still half-asleep, but he daren't dwell on it in case he missed a vital moment with his son that he'd never have back.

John pulled them both in and squeezed their small bodies tight. He had to suppress a sob as he realised that this would be one of the last times their Father would ever hug them when they were sad, and soon enough, he would be the reason they would be sad.

"They're going to tell you some things about me." John whispered to them, making Heather take a shaky breath, which indicated that her tears were about to start badly and she couldn't do anything to stop them. John continued anyway, knowing that he had to tell them his side of the story. He didn't want them to hear some twisted thing from someone else that would make them resent him forever.

"Bad things." John corrected, shutting his eyes in self-resentment. He wasn't even sure if these words would come out without him crying his eyes out.

Heather whispered something quietly and John tapped her shoulder gently to make her repeat it. She then moved to his ear and whispered "I'll still love you Dad."

Those simple words made John's tears fall freely and he let out a gun-wrenching cry as he held his children tight. He could hear Heather's sniffles, knowing that something bad was about to come.

"But I want you to know the truth, before you hear the other side of it all." John told Heather, making her nod at him to carry on. He cleared his thick throat before he spoke again, knowing that there was no point in trying to hide any kinds of emotion from anyone now. Not in these final moments.

"I was sent over from Russia when I was younger. And, the truth is..." Heather leaned back and gave him a re-assuring smile that let him know everything would be okay. It was the same smile her Mother gave him and it made his heart clench with fear when he knew that he'd never see it from either one of them ever again, just one more thing to tick off the very long list.

John looked to Charlie, who was shaking with tears and fear. He smiled at his son and decided to spare him from it all. He leaned forward and said in his best story-telling voice, "I'm a spy."

Charlie's eyes lit up and he looked to Clara, who was looking unsure at the children. "Really?" Charlie asked excitedly, looking to John for answers.

John nodded happily, coughing a few times and wiping his tears. "Yeah." John gasped. "But you can't tell anyone, because it's super top secret."

Charlie shook his head. "I promise I won't tell Daddy." He whispered, putting a finger on his lips to indicate his silence. John smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Good boy." He whispered, kissing his forehead. At least Charlie could just think of it as a story for now. He'd realise the full extent of that truth soon enough anyway.

"Can you come into parent's day at school now Daddy?" Charlie suddenly asked, looking genuinely curious and John could have sworn he heard the crack from when his heart split in two and fell out onto the floor. "Because, I'd be the coolest boy in the class if my Daddy's a spy."

John opened his mouth and shut it slowly, unsure of where he could even begin to start to explain the circumstances to his little boy. The small child, who was so much like him; always asking questions, with rocket fin ears and an awful sense of where to put his limbs. And his.

John shook his head slowly, watching as the smile on Charlie's face changed to one of confusion and mostly, disappointment. That was the one expression that John had needed so desperately to avoid, but there was no way he could do it. He was letting down his children and therefore they would forever be disappointed in him.

He thought over to Clara and what she would do if she were in his position. She'd have lied too, to make sure the kids had a parent at least. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to stand there and watch the children get angry or upset with John about his true identity and not even be able to back him up or tell them the truth about herself in fear of whoever was behind the tinted glass and what they would to her and their children if the full truth was exposed.

That was how John felt in total; exposed. He felt like all of his secrets had been torn out in front of him and put on a chopping board. He'd hated how the police had demanded all the information about his personal life and childhood from him. He barely even remembered his childhood, and it made him feel naked when they spoke of something so personal to him. It had managed to somehow become something that only one other person really knew the whole truth about and he hated how vulnerable it had made him feel in front of those stupid men

John re-directed his mind back to his son and the question he'd asked. How on Earth could he tell Charlie that he was never coming back without breaking his heart. Simply, there wasn't any way that he could. He would have to lie, but only to a certain extent. Charlie was still too young to think his father would never come back It would probably become apparent within a couple of days, but he'd rather Charlie be oblivious in his last hour with the boy than have him panicking.

"I can't." John whispered, pulling him back in for a deep hug. "I would do anything to be able to, but I can't. I can't because...because I've got to go on a special mission back in my home country. And it's going to be a very long time."

Charlie nodded, not truly understanding what John was saying, and he felt it was somehow better that way. "So I'll need you to be the man in the house and look after Mummy while I'm gone."

"I will Daddy, I look after Mummy." Charlie swore, pecking John on the cheek happily and stepping back so that he could run back to Clara and comfort her.

John could see that she was crying, but he knew that she'd hate him if he tried to comfort her any more than he already had.

Charlie began to wipe Clara's tears and tell her all that he'd promised John, which only made her cry more even though the boy didn't understand why that was.

Heather was leaned against the table, trying to look anywhere but her father in that moment. She was a smart girl. She knew that it would only take one glimpse of her Father before she started crying.

John gently rubbed her cheek, causing her to slowly turn her head as tears pooled in her eyes and fell down her rosy cheeks. John pulled her in for tight hug at the sight and let himself sob as Heather did too.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her, not knowing how any words could be enough for the lies they'd put her through.

Heather stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to collect the thoughts in her head. Her father was a spy, which meant that he was being sent back to his home country.

"You should have just told me." Heather whispered back, feeling betrayed and broken-hearted. "I wouldn't have told anyone, promise."

John nodded slowly. "I know you wouldn't have, I know sweetie. But, we weren't allowed to tell you in case people hurt you for it."

They were speaking in hushed whispers to avoid Charlie's ears, although Clara could hear clearly and it each second was breaking her heart more and more.

To feel in pain yourself is hard enough and to know what it is like to suffer through makes you never want anyone else to experience it. But to see your child in pain is a much ore different issue. The one thing you wish for when your child is born is that they'll never have to suffer in their lives. So to see them cry, not because they're hurt, but because they've been emotionally scarred is heart-breaking, especially when you know that tears have been caused by your own hand.

"But, if you'd have told me, maybe we could have stopped this. I could have lied for you." Heather suggested, tears dripping onto John's neck.

He moved back to kiss Heather's wet cheeks twice each. "I never want you to lie for me Heather." John admitted seriously. "You're not a bad person. You're the very best person I know. You're not like me in that way."

Clara put Charlie back on the ground and crouched down next to John, holding him tight in her arms as she shook her head rapidly. Heather was still attached to John, but she didn't care. She couldn't allow him to think of himself like that.

"You are not a bad person. John, you're not." She whispered, holding him tight. "Everything you've ever done has been to protect your family."

John allowed another sob to shake his shoulders and he clung onto Clara with all of his might, gripping Heather in the other arm. "How is this protecting you?"

"Because you've not told on Mum." Heather whispered to them both, so quiet that no-one could possibly have heard it unless they were in the small proximity that these three were.

Clara turned to face Heather, looking sorry and shocked. She didn't need to ask how Heather knew. She just needed to say sorry.

"We do what we have to for family." John whispered to them both, kissing their cheeks each several times.

They allowed themselves to cry as a family, huddled up on the floor in a massive group. Clara couldn't help but think that she had put her children through far too much for their age at this point. There would one day come a time where she would have to tell them the entire truth, and explain properly what she did. And when that time would come, she knew that the probability of them hating her would be so high. But she couldn't lose them now, not after losing John too.

"Are you Russian Dad?" Heather asked quietly, knowing that the answer already. John nodded, looking down regretfully. Heather smiled to cheer him up before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I swear you once said that it could be anyone but the bloody Russians?" She teased.

John smiled before replying, "Well you know what? Sometimes it's the country that's bad and not the people." She smiled softly at him for this and nodded slowly.

"Just because England is sending you away, doesn't mean every Englishman is bad."

"Exactly."

When the door opened for the last and final time, men came into the room and asked John to stand up. He did so obediently and he didn't fight when they turned him around to put him in handcuffs.

Heather stared at the tight metal rings in shock and stood forward to punch the man who had placed John in them, directly in the gut. Clara's eyes widened in shock at her daughter's boldness, but she did nothing to stop it.

"You are to come with us now." The man said, clearly annoyed by the girl. She may have been small, but her right hook was good for someone her age. "Say your goodbyes."

Clara shook her head, looking to the floor in a panic. "Now?" She exclaimed, shaking her head in denial. "What, now? Don't we get more time?"

The man shook his head. "A helicopter is waiting. From there you will be taken to a military aircraft that will escort you back to Moscow." and Clara turned to John, dissolving into desperate tears. She flung her arms around him, giving room for Heather and Charlie to do so too. She hated that John wasn't even allowed to hug back.

She could feel the men pulling John away from them but she should her head at them. "Please, just one more minute!" She cried, not even giving them a chance to reply before tearing John back and holding him tight.

"There will be days and nights when I want you, so much more than I'll ever want to because it will hurt so much, but I won't care. You have no idea how much I want you Clara." John cried.

There was something about knowing that this was it. There would be no more farewells or happy letters after this moments, this was forever and they'd never have a chance to get over it.

"I need you too John. Please, don't leave me." Clara begged, praying for some miracle that would never happen.

"Ma'am, we must hurry you..." The man said, but Clara ignored them. They couldn't take this away from her. She wouldn't allow them to take away one single line of what was rightfully hers.

"I'll always be in your heart." John whispered quickly. "And if you feel like you can't find me, just look up to the stars and know I'll be looking up too."

Clara pressed her lips to his quickly before jumping back as John was forcefully pulled away. She knew there was nothing more she could do as the feel of his soft lips left hers for the last time.

"I love you." She heard John call as he was forcefully dragged down the corridor. Two guards stood at the door, blocking the way as Clara tried to run after him. She attempted to push past, but they simply pushed her back down to the ground.

Behind her, Heather and Charlie stared at their Mother who was curled up in a ball as she allowed everything in that moment to hit her. She looked down the floor, tears falling freely but she now felt empty inside.

The world was now in black and white and nothing could bring her out of it. "I love you too." She whispered quietly, just enough for everyone to hear it.

And even though the guards at the door both felt like they themselves had been hurt in that moment, she knew that they could never understand what she was going through. They might shed a tear over the situation, and if it stuck with them, maybe it would be the one case that would always haunt them. She hoped it would be so, because even if they had to carry that weight around with them for the rest of their lies, they'd never understand the weight of a dead soul in a moving body.

As each teardrop sank into the stained carpet, Clara couldn't help but think about how they were tiny pieces of her heart that were just being thrown away into a dumpster, because no-one actually cared about them.

"Mum?"

Clara heard the small voice of her daughter out of the bottomless pit of sorrow she was falling into and it dragged her back to the surface. She turned to face her little girl, and then she knew that she would have to see in colour again. She would have to find some way to life with a dead soul, because her children needed her. And that was her new mission, to do whatever she could for the only people she had left.


	23. Visible Wounds

The sudden silence of the car engine turning off alerted Clara that she was back home. She remained still for a few moments, staring at the doorway of the house. The police had left now, but the memories were still fresh.

After a few moments, she snapped out of her gaze and shook her head, trying to find her train of thought.

"Um," She mumbled, turning to the backseats to where the children were staring at her. She'd assumed they were asleep the entire trip, but she now realised that they probably hadn't been. their small faces looked so empty. They look like something inside of them had been physically removed. At first, they had the shock and sudden pain and knowledge of what was to come, but now it was the harsh feeling of trying to somehow comes to terms with what life had suddenly handed them.

"Come on guys." She whispered, "Let's go."

She opened the car door slowly, not bothered by the chill in the air as she stood still, arms folded, as she waited for the children to slowly file out of the car.

They walked up to Clara and stood in a line, waiting for her to tell them what to do. She spent a few seconds staring at the house that used to bring such comfort to her.

She gave a thumbs up to the driver in the car, allowing him to drive off. Bracing herself, she nodded to the children and they opened the gate to their garden, walking down it towards their house.

Each step felt like she was doing nothing. She wasn't even sure what section of her brain was telling her to walk. She just knew that she was doing it and she couldn't really control it, although she knew that she could just stop whenever she wanted. But her mind was on auto-pilot and she felt like any abrupt stops would bring everything to life.

She could hear Charlie's teeth chattering as he walked alongside her, not wanting to be left behind.

When they finally reached the front door, after what felt lie the longest walk of her life, Clara twisted the handle and felt the door move open.

She had to stop in that moment and accept the reality. She was still expecting to open the door and John would be there, welcoming her home. He wouldn't be there to kiss on the cheek as she walked into the kitchen.

The door creaked as it opened fully and the broken family took a step inside. They shut the door behind them, but didn't move from the spot they'd first moved to.

Clara looked around, listening for something that would tell Clara John was home, but it wasn't going to come. The silence felt like a death-threat and Clara simply shook her head at the notion that she had ever believed such a thing.

Tapping the children's backs lightly, she smiled at them each. They all knew it was a forced smile, but it was better than nothing at all. "Go to bed." She told them, watching as they ran up the stairs as quickly as they could.

The police had clearly cleaned up behind them, leaving no damage behind. At least they were kind enough to do that, rather than leaving mess behind them.

Clara walked over to the base of the stairs, and with all of her energy, she placed a hand on the banister and raised her right foot to take the first step upwards.

The soft feel of the polished wood beneath her fingers provided no comfort like it once had. It just reminded how hollow this house suddenly felt.

She thought back to two days prior, as she walked up these stairs just like this. But back then, she could hear the children as they had a pillow fight with their father. She giggled as she'd walked up the stairs to see them playing around in Charlie's room. There was something so innocent and genuine about the moment and Clara had no idea why it was coming to mind in this moment, but she knew that she was craving that day back more than ever.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she could hear whispering from Charlie's room. It was clear that Heather was in there too. The whispers sounded choked and Clara wasn't sure if she would be able to cope with the sight of her children breaking down, but it was her job to hold them and comfort them and this was the time that they needed her more than ever. She could always mourn later.

She stood outside the doorway, listening intently as she heard Heather cough back a sob.

"Charlie, don't cry. Please." She heard the girl whisper desperately. "Please, we can't cry in front of Mum. She doesn't need it."

Clara looked to the white wall beside her blankly. Since when had her ten year old believed that she should never show her Mum her feelings?

"I know, I'm sorry." Charlie whispered back, trying to control his inconsolable tears unsuccessfully.

At this point, Clara knew she had to interject. She walked into the room quickly and sat down on the bed beside the two youngsters. She caught Heather as she frantically tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

Clara moved next to Heather and pulled her face up into her hands, making sure that she didn't hide her face. She looked down at her daughter apologetically, using one of her hands to gently wipe her tears.

Heather somehow managed to remain composed, but Clara ended up with tears spilling down her face at the speed of light.

"Don't ever feel like you need tohide your tears from me. Ever." Clara stressed, turning around to Charlie at the same time, holding an arm out so he could crawl under her arm and snuggle up into her side.

"You don't need it Mum." Heather whispered, determined in what she believed. Clara couldn't even comprehend the fact that her daughter felt the need to hide things from her for her own sake. It wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't right. Daughters should tell their Mothers everything. She couldn't stand the idea of losing Heather over this at some point soon. She'd lost too much already.

"I don't care." Clara replied, kissing both of their foreheads multiple times. "I don't care if it's over the most stupid thing, never ever feel like I won't hold you when you cry."

Charlie nodded slowly and Heather did the same, knowing that it was a promise she wouldn't be able to keep. Someone had to look after her Mum when her Dad wasn't there, and Charlie was too young to do it. That meant it had to be Heather.

Clara shut her eyes tight and memorised as much as she could about John once more, but she felt already like things were beginning to slip. They were somehow fading faster the further he was away from them.

"Mum?" Charlie asked quietly, sounding unsure and tired in his words. Clara turned to him and smiled to show that she was listening. "Can we read some more?"

Clara stared at the boy blankly for a moment before nodding slowly. She reached over to the beside table and picked up the book, still balanced on the page they'd left it at. There was something so wrong about the idea John had been reading it with them just a few hours before and wasn't any more.

She didn't even know if she was being stupid anymore. Why wasn't she being strong? She'd always been strong about everything in life, so why not now? Surely she had gone through worse?

Clara slowly began to read the words as enthusiastically as she could. She could sense that Charlie was asleep quite quickly, but she kept on reading, determined to find something left of John in this small book. It was the last thing he'd read to them after all.

When she felt like Heather was beginning to get tired too, she slowly put the book back on the side and tucked Charlie into bed.

Then, being as gentle as she could, she helped Heather to her room and kissed her goodnight.

Turning back to face the other end of the corridor, Clara stared at the door. The door to their, correction, now her bedroom. There was no them anymore.

Clara felt sick at the idea of sleeping in that bed alone. It would make things really real. She took only five steps towards the room before stopping in her tracks and feeling like she was about to have a mental breakdown.

How could she look at things of John's as if he were still going to come home later and be there when she woke up? How could she looked at the things they owned and remember the little things when any thought of him was currently destroying her up from the inside out.

Taking a quick turn, she walked back into Heather's room and smiled at the girl apologetically, who was lying on top of her duvet.

She was cuddling up to Sammy and Clara smiled. Walking over to her, she sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the dog's fur gently. He yawned and Clara smiled at Heather, who was looking blankly at her Mum.

The nightlight was on, allowing enough light into the room. Clara looked around the room before taking a deep breath and shrugging her shoulders. "Can I," Clara began, looking down to her feet slowly. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" She asked quickly, looking down at her little girl.

She couldn't believe that she was really expecting her own child to look after her, but she didn't know anyone else better for the job. Heather was like her Mother in her determination and the way she felt things, but she was as loving and caring as her Father.

Heather nodded slowly, moving over to the edge of the bed, still holding Sammy, so Clara could tuck in behind her.

Clara removed her jumper and climbed into the bed behind Heather. She lifted up the duvet so they could all tuck in and then she pulled her daughter close into her chest and cradled her small skull delicately.

"I'm sorry Heather." Clara whispered in her ear, holding her closer with each syllable.

"Don't be sorry Mum." She whispered back, squeezing tight to the hands wrapped around her stomach. "This wasn't your fault."

Clara shook her head. "It is. We should have told you the whole truth."

Heather took a few deep breaths, unsure of what she needed to say about it. Sure, she was angry that she'd been brought up in a lie, but it was the last of her problems in that moment.

"Would that have changed anything?" Heather asked honestly, knowing the answer already.

"No, but..." Clara began, trying to rush in her words.

"Exactly." Heather interrupted, making her Mum stop dead in her tracks. "There was nothing left to do."

Clara let the silence drag on, despite it's awkwardness. She felt Heather needed thee time to think out what she needed to know.

"Sammy hid under the bed by the way." Heather explained as they heard the dog whimper once again in his sleep.

Clara nodded in realisation. "Oh, that's why he wasn't there."

"Yeah." Heather replied. She twiddled her fingers for a few moments, praying that there would be a simply way to say it. "I heard the officers." She said bluntly. "And they said that the place Dad worked for was being checked out. He had some record for assault or something?"

Clara closed her eyes and took a deep sigh. "It wasn't his fault. I should never have pushed him so hard. He just tried to make it work and all I ever did was push him away. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Heather craned her neck to look at her Mum. "What are you talking about?" She asked quickly. "Why did Dad have an assault record?"

Clara shook her head. She guessed this would be the time for revelations.

"Heather, there are things you don't know about me. Or your Dad. We were brought over here from Russia. We didn't even know each other, would you believe it? We were made to be married so we would have a believable cover here. At first, things didn't...work out. I mean...they did, but they didn't really. I didn't want to fall in love with him. And when I ever felt like I was, I would find some reason to get out of it to avoid heartbreak. I wished and wished that he would be some horrible guy, but I was wrong. And all that wishing did was wound my heart in the end."

Clara swallowed down the thickness in her voice, but Heather carried on listening. "Something happened that was confusing and I said something to him. Back then, we were trained to kill."

Clara hadn't expected the shiver to appear in Heather but then she realised what she'd said and what realisation her daughter must have had with that. She kicked herself mentally at her lack of delicacy on that specific subject. She might has well just said, "By the way, your father and I have kind of killed people."

She carried on anyway, despite the reaction from her daughter. "And, I shouted at him. He shouted at me too. It was a bad day. And...he hit me. But don't you dare think of that as your father! He would never have intentionally hurt me. I said something I shouldn't have."

Heather shook hr head quickly, rotating her body around to face her Mum. "Don't ever feel like you have to explain yourself to me Mum." Heather mumbled. "I'll love you no matter what. I don't care who you are or what you have done. I still love you."

Clara stared in disbelief at her daughter. "I don't want any secrets between us." She whispered honestly. "I want you to know the truth about me even so. I need you to know things like...Oh God, I've hurt people Heather. So many people. And when I say hurt, I mean..."

Could she even get it out of her mouth? She may have vaguely said it earlier, but the idea of admitting such a horror to her daughter felt wrong. But she needed to know. It was essential that Heather knew so she could understand why her life had just been turned upside down.

"You've...killed?" Heather asked slowly, but surely.

Clara shut her eyes and nodded her head slowly. "I had to. They were my orders. But only to ever protect my country."

Heather squinted her eyes in confusion and took a moment to shut her eyes in immense confusion. "Wait...your country? Sorry, I just...the idea that you're from another country, it's just...I'm not sure what I'm meant to think."

"I'm sorry Heather." Clara whispered, begging for some sort of acceptance from her ten year old daughter.

"No need to apologise Mum." She whispered, half to herself. "I just need a moment to organise this all in my head."

Clara nodded, staring at the girl who was so grown up. Maybe too grown up.

"Do you speak Russian?" Heather asked slowly, looking unsurely up at her Mum. Clara nodded slowly, smiling at the idea she'd get to say something to her daughter in Russian for the first time since she was a tiny baby. "Say something, please?"

Clara thought over what would be appropriate for a few seconds before finally deciding. "Kheya devochka" Clara said simply, watching as Heather's face changed from one of confusion to curiosity.

"What does that mean?" She asked simply.

"Hey baby girl." Clara replied, a real smile forming on her lips for the first time in several hours. It made Heather feel proud to know that she would be able to get her Mum through this.

"Can you teach me? Russian, I mean? Not now, but sometime soon I guess?" Heather asked.

Clara's eyes widened and she choked on her words before getting them out. "Of course. No, I would love to."

Heather smiled gratefully. "Thanks Mum."

"No problem baby." Clara replied, pulling her into a tight hug.

Clara heard the door slowly creek open and it shut behind it. She sat up slightly to see Charlie stood in the doorway, clutching his blanket and teddy.

Heather sat up too and smiled. "Come on Charlie." She whispered lovingly, patting the space in between her and her Mum. Charlie looked at them both thankfully, before climbing up onto the bed and squishing in between the two.

The bed was quite small, but they somehow all managed to fit. Heather clung to Sammy as Clara held Charlie.

Charlie waited until Heather had turned out her nightlight to speak once more.

"Mummy?" He whispered. Clara looked up to the boy and nodded her head. "When is Daddy going to come home?"

Heather and Clara both took an audible gasp for air. She could sense Heather's body had gone rigid and Clara felt her tears ducts suddenly well up once again as she thought about John on that context; gone.

Before she could get any words out, tears began to form a maze down Clara's face and Charlie suddenly looked shocked. "Please don't cry Mummy." He whispered, trying to wipe the tears away as best as he could.

Heather turned to face them all, bringing Charlie towards her to allow her Mum to cry once more. But instead, Clara clung to them both as she allowed the sense of grief to hit her fully. There was only so long she could hold it in for.

Because, like she had said, she was wishing for everything to not be true. She wished that the life she'd built for herself had been real. She wished that Charlie wouldn't have to ask when his Daddy would be home and she wished she wouldn't have to tell him that it would be never.

And after all, wishing just wounds the heart.


	24. The Prices We Pay

Things were good. Well, as good as they could be.

It was all like a distant dream now. He hadn't been shot when he got back to Russia after all. Quite the opposite in fact, he now trained new operatives to work for the Russian Government. He was hailed for the work that he did whilst he was there and known as the master of disguise, although he didn't quite understand that as his disguise was actually blown.

His main job was to make sure that the interns were in good shape and prepared to fight. He also gave lectures every so often to the classes so that they got a view of the different side to assignments.

Of course, none of these kids would probably ever do what he had to do, but it was a safety measure if it was ever needed.

Remembering his other life was hard. It had been far too long to remember much of them at all. He still had his photographs, which he kept dearly. The photographs which he had managed to collect anyway.

He'd been sent a few things from England by the officials, but he had never received anything back from Clara. That didn't mean he had forgotten her. He woke up every morning thinking about her and the kids.

Lottie would be twenty-eight now. It was too old. He didn't even know what she was doing with her life. He would never if she ever went through with the professional ice skating thing. He guessed it was just a phase, but it always made him smile to think that she had tried.

Eighteen years. That's a long time with plenty of minutes and hours to forget about it all. At first, he had done everything not to forget. He had memorised everything about them day and night, never allowing the mental images to leave his head.

But eventually the voices in his head began to sound more like him than who they really were, and the faces just echoed the few pictures he had. He barely remembered them truthfully, but that doesn't mean he had forgotten them.

The first thing he had done once he had touched down in Russia, was travel to Pugachyov. It hadn't taken him long to locate the Kurotkov household. From there he had been able to speak to David, Clara's father. Of course, the man was growing older and more frail, but he never left his side.

Fifteen years after Nikolai had returned to Russia, David died. He knew there was no way to contact Clara without having her accused of being a spy, even now. It made him feel happier to know that he had cared for the old man as best he could. He visited at least once, if not twice a week minimum.

In his last days, David saw Nikolai as his son. They spoke of Clara often, their main common interest. At first, David hadn't been able to cope with Nikolai referring to her as Clara when he only knew her as Lilja. But as time passed by, he got used to it, and Nikolai began to call her by Lilja.

David was the father that Nikolai had never had. He was the person he had always wanted and it didn't shock him why Clara had always spoken so fondly of him. Every year he laid a rose on the grave of Clara's mother for her. It was his penance, his way of paying her back for what she gave him.

In the final few years for David, he had moved over to Moscow just to be nearer to Nikolai. It gave him comfort to have someone there, as everyone else he knew had already passed over.

Nikolai made himself a family back home. He had two friends, who cared for him like no-one else. Roman had been with him in the KGB school, and when they had met once again back in Moscow, they became practically inseparable. Nikolai often claimed he was the last centurion, making fun of his name in English. It took everyone around Nicolai to adjust to the jokes he often made using British puns. It annoyed them mostly at first, but they soon got used to it.

The "they" referred to Roman's wife, Alma. Nikolai held them close and dear. they were practically his family. That's what he saw them as and they called each other that. Also, their eight year old daughter Melody. She reminded Nikolai of Lottie in so many ways, except she was much more like her real Mother in the way that she preferred the company of boys than she did girls.

"Unkle, Unkle!" He heard a little voice cry. Nikolai turned around to be greeted by the smile of Melody. He opened up his arms and swung her up, spinning her around happily.

"How's my favourite person in the world?" Nikolai asked sweetly, poking her nose.

"Very good. You?" She replied, putting her feet back down on the ground and smiling happily as her parents came up behind her, holding her shoulders down as they tutted.

"I'm great. Hi guys." He smiled up at Roman and they have him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, she ran off before we could catch her." Alma mumbled, smiling happily.

"It's fine, I'm just happy you're here." Nikolai replied, pointing to wards the audience of the giant lecture hall. He had been asked to give a speech to the officials in Russia about his time in England. God knows why they wanted him there, but he was to receive some award of some kind and he was told by his superiors that he would be stupid to turn it down.

All he had to do was talk for an hour about his missions and what he did in England. He guessed it wouldn't be too hard. He often spoke about the infiltrations to students and told them how they used disguise. It was no secret that he had sold out many people that were traitors in his time, and carried out hits. He wasn't too happy with Melody being there to hear it, but he was told to invite his family and it felt fitting that they would be there. After all, it was a massive celebration.

The hall they were in was noisy and Nikolai didn't like the amount of snobby men that were sitting down in their seats. He was fairly sure he had threatened to kill a few of them in his time, and the others he was more than willing to still do that.

He paced himself as he waited for the hall to eventually turn quiet, which took a while as apparently they were serving wine and anyone rich was going back for more.

As the lights dimmed, Nikolai began to speak about everything he had ever experienced during the endless cold war. It had felt endless anyway, back then.

He had a whole hour to speak, and in all honesty, he wasn't sure that there was much he could really say. He had spoken about a lot of his missions early on, trying to avoid anything that mentioned the traitors he went after from the Russians. He knew it wouldn't look too good to have how many there were announced to the world.

Behind Nikolai, there were pictures displayed of things he did in England. He had no idea where a few came from, but most were of disguises he had adopted.

That was when the picture of his family came up. It was on a large screen behind him and he could see the confused faces of the people at the front.

"They..." Nikolai started, knowing he would have to explain the picture in full detail, "My mission...They are my family."

He eventually choked out his words, much to the confusion of some in the room ."My mission originally started out with another operative. We only knew each other by names we had been given and back stories. We spoke fluent English to maintain our cover and we lived the perfect English lives. That was how I spent so long there. But, as any couple does...we lived out our lives."

Nikolai looked to the screen to see another picture of him and Clara, playing with the kids in a park. He remembered a friend of his taking it and it made him smile to see. He had no idea where these pictures were from, but they made him remember what they all looked like. It had been too long with the same pictures for him to get a decent look.

"And...that girl up there is Clara. She is, well, was my wife. We had two children, Heather and Charlie. And they...they...they're still there. When I was caught and sent back to Russia, they got left behind. I didn't want my wife being caught too."

He could see the nods of acceptance from the people in authority on the front row. He didn't want to stall or say anything silly, but he wasn't going to lie. Besides, times had moved on and so had the people, mostly anyway.

"We did everything together. She helped me with all of the missions I've spoken about today and she sacrificed way more than me. She had to let go of her country so our children would never know the full truth."

"Excuse me sir?" A voice from the audience sounded out, interrupting Nikolai. He looked towards the man and nodded. "Is she still in England?"

Nikolai hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I think so. All contact was lost when I came back here."

He heard a hum of pity from the audience. "And, why did she not come back?" The voice asked again.

Nikolai gritted his teeth together. He was sure that it wasn't really any of their business about Clara.

"Because...she had important things left to do in England." He finally replied. "And I finished up her business here."

Nikolai quickly thought over what he just said before correcting himself. "I cared for her father in his final few years as the dutiful husband I was, in thanks for all the times she saved my life. In honesty, if it wouldn't break her cover, she is the one who deserves the medal."

The people around nodded, happy with his answer. He could feel the seconds ticking by and he suddenly just felt like he wanted this award to be over with. He didn't feel like he truly deserved it. He'd only ever served his country and endanger the people he loved. how did that deserve a medal?

Clara had been the one who had suffered. She had been put through unbearable circumstances for the job, both in Russia and England, and she was still protecting her family. Whilst, Nikolai...John...He was teaching more people how to do get themselves killed for a stupid cause.

"Let me tell you something." Nikolai suddenly said into his microphone, feeling shy all at once. "Today...I'm being awarded some thing. I know it is really much cooler than that, but to me it's...just this...thing."

The men in the audience began to shift in their seats, but Nikolai wanted to say what he truly felt rather than reciting lines about what he once did. Aren't feelings more important than actions in the end anyway?

"Because, none of this was about that. Not in the end. Everything I did in England was to protect my family. That's why the war started in the first place. none of us want out children to grow up in a world we don't like. So...we try and change that world. I carried out my orders to the letter so that my children would not have to grow up in a world where they felt like they were in danger."

He took a deep breath. "But, I also didn't want them growing up in a world where they couldn't trust their own parents because their Mother and Father were liars. And when they eventually found out...I think it broke them. I'll never know what they had to go through. I remember...we gave my daughter a dog for her birthday, a couple of months before I was sent back here. that dog was probably the most yappy and annoying thing you ever met...but I loved that damn dog. Heather treasured it like nothing else in the world and it always slept next to her when she was sad. And in the end, it didn't matter if the dog annoyed me, it made her happier than anything. And people often ask me if having kids was a pain. Well...no. Of course not. Maybe for the job, but never for me. They were the thing that made me happier than anything. So, if I am to have a medal, it's not for what I did in England. It's for what I gave up when I came back home. The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was leave my family behind."

The people around seemed to be confused as to where Nikolai was heading, but not a single one of their attentions were diverted from him.

"So...what I'm really trying to say is...I'm happy. Of course I am, I'm happy about this award. Who wouldn't be? I mean, I idolised the men with medals when I trained. This is everything I ever once wanted. And getting everything you want should mean happiness, right?"

He shut his eyes slowly and drew out his breath to make what he would say count. "But there's a cost to all of this happiness. I got everything I once wanted, on the cost of what I truly needed in life. And in the end, it only left me wanting what I could no longer have. So...if I have anything to say from what I've learnt in this life...it's to not take everything you're given for granted. Because, one day it will be taken away from you and you will ever be able to get it back."

"So, I'm thankful for everyone's appreciation but...I don't want the medal. I'm sorry, that's all I really needed to say. I just...I don't think I'm the one who deserves it. Thank you very much for this honour."

Nikolai took a moment before walking off the stage. He could hear the slow clap from the audience, unsure of what exactly to do. He could hear people saying things through the speakers about continuing on to the dinner, but he ignored them. He walked outside slowly to take a breath of fresh air.

It was hard to see the stars because of the city's lights, but he managed to spot two or three through the darkness. They were a thing of beauty. Looking up at the stars reminded him of who he really was, inside. He had gone back to being Nikolai so easily, he had forgotten John.

So it was time to properly start again. He needed to leave his other life behind him if he was to ever move on. He didn't need the daily reminders from his lectures of everything he gave up.

"Nikolai?" He heard Roman behind him and turned around to greet him.

"Hey." He said slowly, walking over to the wall of the building to lean against it.

"Hey, you know they are still going to make you have the medal? They're all eating now. Come join?" Roman tried to sound happy, but he knew that wasn't what Nikolai needed.

"Sorry for what happened in there." Nikolai mumbled. "I just feel so out of control in my life. And no medal is going to make that right."

"I know it isn't." Roman said comfortingly, patting Nikolai's shoulder. "But that doesn't mean you should live life on a low. Like you said, don't take these things for granted."

Nikolai nodded slowly. "I miss them Roman." He mumbled. "The photos...I barely even remember their faces. I mean, they wont even look like that anymore, will they? Charlie won't remember me. He was too young. And Heather probably won't either. Or she'll hate me."

Roman patted Nikolai's shoulder and leaned back against the wall with him. "Tell me about...Clara, is it? You never speak of her to me. Not properly anyway. What was she really like?"

Nikolai smiled. "She was funny. Smart, witty, strong. Had a hell of a right hook on her, that's for sure. She was made of steel. And...she was pretty, loving, caring, everything...everything that's good about people in life. She didn't deserve the life she was given."

"What do you mean by that?" Roman interrupted, feeling rude but knowing Nikolai wouldn't mind.

"Well...in life, some people give up hours with their family for work right? She lost her baby for work. Some people lose their hometown for work. She had everything in her life that she trusted forcibly removed."

Roman didn't push Nikolai any further, but it didn't take a genius to guess that he felt guilty for a bad lot which his wife received.

"You know...you have a family here, don't you?" Roman said sweetly, gesturing through the door to the hall, which was vaguely visible from there. He could see Alma swinging Melody on her arm cheerily and Nikolai smiled. "We may not be the ones you always wanted, but we are the ones that you still need."

Nikolai nodded slowly. "Of course I wanted you. You guys mean everything to me."

"You know what I mean. You miss your real family."

"But I have you guys." Nikolai corrected, stepping away from the wall to go back inside.

Maybe, you don't always lose everything in life. Nikolai paid the cost for the happiness he got, but that didn't mean he would be sad forever. He had a new life now, which he needed.

Or, at least, that's what he needed to tell himself. Because, no matter how much he wanted it, he would never get his family back. Not really. He would always just be left with memories of the times that once were.


	25. We Can Always Be Found

The streets looked the same. Of course, they weren't and things had obviously changed, but nothing seemed too different.

London was the same as it had always been. Busy and loud, with people talking in the street. Everyone going about their day as if it was normal.

Although, there was a certain air to the city, with more tourists than ever before because of the games. That is what allowed John to get through security so easily. Hundreds of thousands were flying in to watch the Olympics, and he was just another number to them. He wanted Melody to see the games, in case she never would. They were something that would only happen once in her lifetime, and he had far too much money that he had nothing to spend on.

It had been a long week in London, and it was hotter than John had ever felt it before. It was actually appropriate to be wearing short clothing in this heat, which is a miracle for England in itself.

As he drove down the long streets in his car, John couldn't help but marvel at the modern beauty of it all. This country was so different to Russia, yet so similar all at once.

He knew he was taking a huge chance at even attempting this. The probability was that they had moved elsewhere. John just knew that he had to at least try, or spend the rest of his life regretting it. He couldn't stand the knowledge that he would have been in the same city as them and not even tried to find them and say hi.

The street names passed him like old knowledge. It shocked him how quickly it had all came running back, as if he had lived here for the past eighteen years. His eyes flicked through the names, knowing just how many streets before he took which turn and how many houses down.

It seemed like all the people were the same too. The same old families which he recognised, growing different in their old age. He was an old man now. Getting old at least. He was nearly fifty-two, half way to one hundred. Too old in his opinion. He was already starting to go grey and in all honesty, he was considering dying his hair to avoid it going completely.

But he already had the silver streaks amongst the brown that were prominent, and his skin and bones were a lot more frail than they once were.

He wondered if Clara would be grey, or i she would die her hair. He remembered a conversation with her once where she laughed that she would cry the day she found a grey hair. He wasn't around long enough to see that day, but he guessed that she would have stopped it at any costs. Maybe she had blonde hair now? He thought that idea over and laughed at it, knowing how much it wouldn't suit Clara. She was the kind of girl which blonde just didn't go with. He honestly couldn't imagine her with a colour other than her chocolaty brown.

The journey was taking a little longer than John remembered it being, mostly because he was still trying to get used to driving on the left side of the road once again. The turns to the left were the worst, coming a little sooner than he would anticipate.

He could feel his mind begin to race. What if they weren't there anymore? Would he just have to give up an accept the fact that he would never see them again? Or if they were, would he be accepted in with open arms or would they hate him for leaving it so long?

Maybe they weren't there anymore at all. Not as in moving, but as in dead. He didn't even know if any of them could have died. Clara could have already. It was highly unlikely of course, but he never knew.

He needed to get himself in grip. Panicking was not going to help him stay calm. He needed to be calm, so he didn't lose his head.

There was so much he needed to say to them and he had left it too long to have enough time. But when he tried to think of all the little things that came to the front of his mind often, they just vanished into thin air like he had never even thought them. It was like his goodbyes all over again, except this time it was in reverse.

His eyes widened as he read the sign. Gordon Street. This was it. He was back home again.

He counted down the numbers. Number 44. The address was etched into his brain as he slowly began to pull up outside the white house. The colour hadn't changed. John didn't know why he expected it would have, but it was a pleasant surprise.

He could see a car in the driveway, but he still couldn't be sure if they lived there. The only way to confirm it would be to knock on the door.

He was just out of sight of the window, in case anyone thought he was staring at them. He should just go straight in and get it over with, he thought in his head. But something was delaying him. It wasn't fear. He knew that it wasn't fear or he would never have come in the first place. Anticipation? No, or he would be knocking on that door already.

Disappointment. That's what it was. the idea that it might not be them in the house anymore and he would have to leave without seeing them. That was something that might break his heart once more.

As John spent another minute in the car thinking, he decided that it wasn't worth it. If they were there, then he was just wasting time. And if they weren't? Well, at least he tried and didn't spend too much time dwelling on it.

He got out of his car slowly, shutting the door and making his way up the garden path. It was shorter than he remembered. The last time he had gone down it, he was being dragged by the police. It seemed like such a long time then.

Each step was filled with more and more anticipation, and by the time he got to the door it took all his strength not to knock over-excitedly. It would be awkward if a random stranger was giddy at someone's door, in the appearance of an old man.

The three knocks seemed heavy and drowned, or maybe that was just John's mind? The minute it took before the door opened seemed like a millennia, and in that time John managed to have at least twenty internal debates about whether or not this was a good idea.

"Hello?" A young man opened the door up wide, staring at John with a frown on his face. He wasn't Charlie, that was much for sure. He looked like he was at the end of his twenties, early thirties. His hair was a dark blonde and he was quite tall and muscular.

He must have had the wrong house after all. He knew he looked stupid not saying anything, so cleared his throat with a cough. "Um, does a Clara Smith live here?" His voice sounded nervous and tense.

The man frowned once more, turning around to inside the house. "Sweetie?" He called, signalling to someone.

He could hear footsteps as a young woman walked into his view. "What?" She replied sweetly, smiling at the man.

John couldn't entirely see her face, but that voice was exactly like her Mother's. He would know it anywhere.

"There's a man looking for your Mum." The man said, nodding his head towards John.

John hadn't noticed the bowl Heather was washing in her hand, but it certainly caught his attention as it smashed to the ground with a sharp crash. The man ran over to her to check she was okay, but her eyes were fixated on her father.

John bit his lip, shrugging his shoulders slowly. "Hi." He half-whispered, unsure of what there was he could say.

Heather looked frozen, almost deadly, as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on. She knew that face anywhere, but it couldn't be here. Not after all these years.

Out of nowhere, she opened her mouth to shout, "Mum! Mum, come quick!"

"Heather, what's with the loud noise?" John could hear the faint voice coming from what sounded like the kitchen. His heart was already beating faster as she got closer.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Clara asked, sounding annoyed as she saw the broken bowl on the floor. "Why on Earth did you drop the..."

Clara's face fell from the confused smile when she caught a glimpse of the man standing in her doorway. He almost seemed like a faded memory, a ghost. But he looked as real as day. He was still the same as she remembered him, with a slight aging. But then she had aged too. She knew she was not the same woman as eighteen years before.

Tears sprang to Clara's eyes and she took a few small steps towards John, who froze in his spot. What could he say to her in this moment that would be worth it?

She stopped just before she fully reached him, and extended a palm to stroke his face. John shut his eyes at the contact and Clara gasped upon feeling the warmth under his skin.

"Please tell me I'm not going insane. Please tell me that I'm not just imagining this, and this real?" Clara whispered, begging for her pleas to come true. She wouldn't, no, she couldn't believe it until she had confirmation. She had imagined this way too many times in her dreams.

"I'm real Clara." John murmured, lifting his hand to cover hers on his cheek. "I'm real."

That was all it took before she forced her arms around his chest and clung onto him for dear life. John squeezed his eyes shit as he returned the hug, feeling the full force of just how much she had longed for this in her body movement.

The feeling of small body against his made him feel alive again. Not a single picture or memory could compare to this moment. Nothing in his life had ever felt more special than this.

"John?" She whispered, the tears evident in her voice. But they weren't tears of sadness, but clear happiness. this much John knew.

"Clara?" He replied, stroking her back lovingly. The sigh she gave off at his words let him know that she had still been double checking that she hadn't died or was dreaming. This was real and he was here again.

Heather smiled for a moment before running into the living room. "Charlie! Charlie, come here! It's Dad! Charlie, it's Dad! Oh my God, it's Dad, it's really him!" She screamed, calling out to another pair of footsteps which ran through the hall.

The boy stopped when he saw the sight in front of him. Clara slowly pulled back, wiping the tears away from her eyes as she realised that she might want to let John in. He was still stood on the doorstep, and she felt slightly rude for that.

John took a step in to be greeted by teary smiles from his children. God, they were so grown up.

Heather was taller than her Mum, but she looked just like her in every other aspect. Her brown hair was long, the curls spring down to her waist. Her brown eyes shone in the light with the same happiness John remembered. Whereas, Charlie was just as tall as John, if not taller. He had evident muscles in his arms, but he was still quite skinny. His eyes were greener than is sisters, although they still looked brown. Although, his ears were just like John's. He think Clara once referred to them as rocket fins.

"Dad?" He heard the small whimper from Heather, who was biting her lip so she didn't scream out in joy.

"Hi Heather." He mumbled, extending his arms into a hug. He ran over to her and lifted her up, making her cry out as he spun her around. She was still his little girl and he could feel the teary smiles on everyone's faces as he did so.

Nothing in the house had changed too much. There were more pictures on the mantel, but apart from that, most things were the same. John smiled at the thought. It had been a shock to him that they were still living in the same house. The odds of them even being there together was a miracle in itself.

He put his daughter down on the floor, grinning at her as he opened up his arms to give Charlie a tight hug. "God, you've grown so much." He laughed, making Clara giggle. "You're so tall."

"Tell me about it." Clara laughed sarcastically. John smiled at her and laughed too when Charlie and Heather began to make jokes about her just being too small.

"It's true." John laughed. "Your mother is really small."

"Oi!" Clara teased, punching John lightly on the arm. There was something about his family which suddenly made him feel at home again. He had been back less than five minutes and they were acting as though nothing had changed.

Heather's eyes suddenly lit up and she held up a finger to John. "Let me introduce you to someone Dad." She smiled, running in to the living room.

Clara smiled happily, eagerly awaiting John's reaction. Heather returned into the room with a small boy on her hip. "Alex. Say hi to Granddad." Heather cooed to the boy, walking over to John as she pointed at him. The boy looked at Heather puzzlingly and she laughed. "Yes, that's your Granddad."

"Is he...yours?" John asked Heather. She nodded slowly and smiled. "He's two and a half, but he's just being shy." She walked over to the other man in the room, who John had completely forgotten about. "This is my husband Jacob." She introduced, smiling as she watched John's eyes widen. "We've been married for three years."

John opened his mouth on shock. "Oh...wow. Congratulations." He smiled, walking over to the. "Hi Alex." He cooed as he rubbed the small boys cheeks. He had his Mum's eyes, what a surprise, but he looked more like his Dad than anyone else.

"Hello." The small boy whispered, making John's cheek hurt from the smile he suddenly had. He was the sweetest thing he had ever seen.

"Wow, Granddad. Going to take a minute to get used to that." John laughed turning to Clara who nodded.

"Makes you feel old, doesn't it?" She smiled. Charlie and Heather turned to her shaking their heads as if it had been done a thousand times before.

"You're not old Mum." Charlie moaned. He could see Clara shaking her head as she gave up before trying to fight them.

"You're not." John confirmed, stepping towards her and cupping her face in his hands. He could sense that Clara felt strange with the familiarity after so long, but she seemed comfortable all the same. "You're as beautiful as ever."

Clara blushed and turned her head to the said as she coughed. "Are you...?" She began, unsure of what she needed to say. It took her several attempts of opening her mouth before she even found the words. "How long are you staying?"

John looked to the floor guiltily. "My plane leaves back for Moscow at eleven tonight. I only have a few hours."

Clara's face dropped as she realised the time. It was already half-twelve, and no doubt the would be leaving for the airport a lot sooner than that.

"But..." She protested, trying to think of a way to respond. "Can't you stay a bit longer?"

She was begging him, and suddenly John felt guilty for waiting so long to find her. He had been there a whole week, but he hadn't wanted to see them in fear of not finding them. "Alma will be furious if I make Melody sleep in an airport." John said slowly.

Clara took a small step back. "Oh." She whispered, looking away. "I didn't know you'd...you know, started a new family."

John looked up in confusion. "What?" He asked hurriedly.

"What?" She asked back, confused by his confusion.

"I don't have a new family. A new wife if that's what your suggesting anyway." John explained, frowning at Clara.

"Oh...but you said about..."

"Alma is my friend's wife." John quickly explained, trying to relieve the awkward tension in the room. He didn't enjoy the stares from everyone. "Melody is my god-daughter. I brought her here for the games. That's actually the only reason my fake passport made it through security without being double-checked. Heathrow is way too busy for them to care too much. Especially about Russians with children."

Clara bit her lip and nodded. "So you...you never...remarried?" She asked, praying for the answer to be no.

John shook his head, smiling. "No. You're my family. I don't need anyone else."

Clara nodded before taking a step back towards him, the small space feeling too much like a black hole between them. She didn't want to lose the time she had with him. "Why so long?" She asked honestly, breaking the atmosphere.

John looked down to the floor, trying his hardest not to allow his emotions to get the better of him. "I tried." He said honestly. "I tried everything, I really did. But it was too hard to leave the country. I got a friend to give me a fake for this one journey, but I highly doubt they'd do it again for me. But...please, don't for one second think that I stopped thinking about you. You're everything to me, you know that? I' never went one single..." John took a second to breathe as he felt the tears stinging underneath his eyelids. "One single second not thinking about my family."

"I've missed you so much." Clara declared, finally allowing the tears to fall down her face. It had been far too long without his embrace and it was suddenly becoming overwhelming.

"I've missed you more." John whispered, pulling Clara back into his arms.

"I highly doubt that." Clara replied cheekily. She still had the same flare as ever. John laughed and nodded slowly.

"Whatever you say." He mumbled, kissing Clara's head. She leaned back slowly to fully face John before standing on her toes. She wrapped her arms around John's neck and caught her lips to his. It started out gentle and soft, testing the ground, but soon turned into full passion as John wrapped his arms around Clara's waist and held her tight to him.

They broke apart when they heard a small "Ew" from a child. John laughed as he smiled over to Alex, who was covering his eyes. Heather giggled before taking a deep breath.

"You staying for lunch?" She asked slowly. "We were just making some pizza and chips. Classy, I know, but what do you say?"

John smiled before nodding eagerly. "I would like that very much." He smiled.

Heather jumped up with glee before running through to the kitchen, her son still on her hip.

"Come on Dad" Charlie smiled, nodding towards the kitchen where everyone gathered around.

The room was full of smiles and happiness, and in all honesty, John had to say that he had never felt happier in his life.

"You know, you have an accent now." Clara mused as she clung on to John's arm.

"Really?" He smiled, not realising he had. He hadn't spoken much English whilst he had been in Russia, he just guessed it must be so.

"Yeah." Clara pursed her lips. "But I kind of like it." The smile on her face made John feel happier and he kissed her for it. He didn't know how he had managed to forget the feel of her silky lips against his, but it all came rushing back to him in every moment he spent with her. Every moment he had was precious.

* * *

 

John had learnt a lot over dinner. Heather was now the CEO of a company that made ear for ice-skating, skiing and snowboarding. They sold most of their things in places like Switzerland and France, which meant she had to travel a lot. Although, ever since she had Alex, she tried to stay in London most of the time, never leaving for more than five days in a month.

Her husband was a lawyer and John really began to like him. He fitted in well with the family and it was clear that he had heard a lot about John from the way he already knew what they were talking about.

Charlie was finishing his PHD so that he could become a medical researcher in a laboratory. Clara laughed about him taking after his father. At least, the fake job he had. Clara still taught, although she had taken a while off after he had left. Tom came over often too, he learnt, with his partner Jack. It shocked John that they were still together, but it turned out they were engaged and happily married.

John passed on messages from David to Clara, making her have to excuse herself for a moment as she learnt of her father's death. She had assumed it, but to know it for real still hit her hard. It made her feel somewhat happier that John had been there for him in the end. But that was just the kind of man John was. He was loving and caring and he never walked out on the people he loved. Not entirely anyway.

The dinner passed way too quickly. All too soon it was approaching a time where John was beginning to worry about getting to the airport. He said he would meet Roman there, but he didn't feel like making him worry.

He could feel Clara's grip on his hand growing tighter and tighter as the seconds ticked by. The conversation grew quieter as each person slowly realised that it was nearly time to say goodbye.

When John stood up from the table, after a whole afternoon of happiness, he felt his heart break.

"No, John, please." Clara whispered, standing up next to him and clinging on to him for dear life. She didn't know if she would be able to survive yet another goodbye.

"I can't miss my flight." John mumbled regretfully. He looked over to heather who had tears in her eyes.

"Please Dad. Don't leave us again." She begged, seeing the torment in John's eyes as he fought the urge to do as they said and stay with them forever.

He slowly allowed a tear to fall on to the table, before making his way back towards the front door. Everyone followed him and it took all of his will to not run back in and glue himself to the walls so he could never leave.

He was aware of the sudden distance between him and Clara, which hadn't been there for several hours. She was trying to let go before it hurt too much. But John could hear his own heart cracking once more.

A part of him was telling him that he should never have gone back to them, because goodbyes were too painful. But he would not have missed one second of that day for the world. It was just going to break him to say goodbye.

"So..." He mumbled, looking down to the floor to try and remain composed in some way.

The full force of Heather hugging him made John stumble backwards, but he could hear the gasps in-between breaths from her tears. "I love you so much Dad." She whispered, making sure he knew.

"I love you too Heather." John replied, holding her back. "And I am so proud of you. I love you and Alex and Jacob, and everything about you. You have no idea how happy I am to be able to say that you're my daughter."

Heather stood back, squeezing her eyes tight shut as a few more tears fell. "I'll come and visit you for the Winter Olympics? Sochi. It's in the same country as Moscow. I mean..." The heavy breath she took was ragged.

"Sochi is a long way from Moscow." John said simply, looking to the floor.

"Yeah, but it's not like it's the china end, is it?" Heather said hopefully. "I mean...Dad, I'm going to miss you so much." She gasped, leaning onto Jacob for support.

Charlie grabbed John from the side, holding him tight. "Don't forget us Dad." He whispered, praying that this wasn't the end. There would be some way to see John again. He knew it. Somehow.

"I'll never forget you Charlie." John said honestly, leaning back to look him in the eye as he said it. "Not ever. Not now, and not in a million years."

Charlie nodded in understanding and he stepped away, trying to somehow not break down into sobs. He had been too young to understand last time, and now it was as clear as day and he knew that this could be forever.

Clara looked down the floor, hearing John's footsteps as he stood forward.

He outstretched his arm to lift her chin but she shook her head. "John don't." She snapped, knowing that she wouldn't be able to take it. "Don't make this real. Please, just...don't."

Whether she was prays or him not to say goodbye or not to leave, she wasn't sure, but she knew that she would break down if she looked into John's eyes. But she would be damned if she didn't at least do that one last time.

She looked up slowly and choked a cry, holding John close as she buried her face into his chest. "I love you. Please, don't leave me again." She begged holding him close.

John made no sound in reply, knowing that there was no way he would make her feel better in this moment. And then she began to beg in Russian, repeating the same phrase over and over. "Ne ostavlyay menya. Pozhaluysta, ne ostavlyay menya"

John let his teardrops fall as he apologised over and over for not being able to fulfil her wished. For not being there for her continuously throughout her life. For all the times he hadn't been there to save her and guide her through, past and present.

He heard the clock on the wall chime six and he knew that his time was up. He could tell in the way Clara stopped crying that she knew too.

"No." She pleaded as John took a step back.

"I love you." He said simply, not sure if he would be able to take much more of the goodbyes.

"I love you too." Clara said quickly, knowing she had to say it again. "I love you so much John. Oh God, oh God." Her shoulders shook with sobs as John smiled to the whole family.

"I love you all. Never ever forget that." And with a final nod, he swiftly left the house, leaving Clara in sobs in the entrance. She wasn't sure if she would ever move again. She had once more lost everything, and this time she new for a fact that she couldn't take it.

As John approached Roman in the departure lounge, the tears that made John's eyes red were clear as day.

* * *

 

"Were they there?" Roman asked slowly. John sat down beside him whilst Alma busied herself with entertaining Melody to distract her from the fact her Unkle Nikolai was crying.

"Yeah." He replied slowly, his voice scratchy from the tears.

"How did it go?"

John didn't reply. There was nothing left to say. He had his closure, he had said his goodbyes. And now, there was nothing left to hold on to.

The plane journey home was a long one. John's flight was delayed by a few hours, not to the amusement of Alma who was annoyed at the fact they still had to sleep in the airport anyway. But it meant he got to wave goodbye to England in the crack of dawn. The green fields were a more beautiful sight than ever in that moment and it reminded John of all the things he loved and all the things he lived for in his dreams.

He was happy now. He'd seen his family all grown up. He knew that they had good lives and he could go to sleep at night without constantly wondering.

* * *

 

His house was still a mess from when he had left it. He decided it would be better to unpack later. He just needed a rest after the long flight, and he sat down on his sofa as he thought over his past week. His past day in particular. It felt so strange to know that he had been with his family less than twenty-four hours ago, but he wasn't now. It felt longer ago than that, but at the time it had felt so real.

A small knock came to his door and John groaned at the idea of having to answer it. He somehow managed to drag his tired feet to the door and slowly open it.

His eyes widened at the tiny figure who stood in his doorway, a large suitcase firmly in her hand.

She had a shy smile on her face, which John relished in. He rarely saw her shy, but right now his heart was jumping out of his stomach and he wasn't sure whether or not he would pass out from joy.

"Alma and Roman gave me your address at the airport. You left before I could catch you. I got the next plane out." She explained herself quickly, seeing the shock evident on John's face. Her Russian was dusty, but it was as clear as day.

She looked down to the floor nervously as John struggled to figure out what to say or do. In the end he decided to simply show her by grabbing her up in his arms and kissing her cheek joyfully.

Her brown her danced through the air as he spun her and she wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck.

He whispered "My Clara" into her neck over and over as he placed kisses there. He wanted to scream out in happiness, knowing what this meant.

But instead, when he stood her back down on her feet, the grin on his face wide enough to span the whole of Russia, there was only one thing he needed to say. Only one thing that was sufficient to emphasis just hw much all of this meant to him.

He thought about all of the times they had shared together, and all of the lives they had lived. Every single one just as important as the other, but nothing was as important as the one thing she gave him. Because he didn't have this unless she was there. Because she was everything he needed. She kept him grounded, and he would never have to live another day without her.

He smiled and kissed her lips slowly before pulling back. "Welcome Home."

Their squeals of joy could be heard for miles around as they embraced once more. Because, that was something John had been missing. Without her, he couldn't have it. Because your home is where you heart is, and she was his home. Together, they were home.


End file.
